The gift of the shadows
by Blue Lycan
Summary: Harry's greatgrandfather wasn't human, and although it skipped two generations Harry changes the second he reaches 16. Harry's a shadow veela, and there is only one person that can withstand his charm. ON HIATUS
1. Expelling the blood of your past

**Drum roll please**

Now I would like to proudly announce this to be the first ever introduction of a completely beta'd story! Thanks to my wonderful little Elly, this whole story is completely free of spelling mistakes, typos and other annoying little things that make reading this displeasing.

For all of you who have already read this, I apologise if this accidentally deletes all of your reviews. –Fingers crossed- I just hope that doesn't happen.

And for all of you who are new to this story- I hope you enjoy it!

…

**Chapter 1 – Expelling the blood of your past**

It wasn't even midnight yet, but already the streets were so bare they looked uninhabited, every house light turned off and its occupants safely tucked up in bed. Well, that was the case for most of the people in Surrey, but for one Harry Potter it wasn't the case at all. Harry sat silently on the park swing, staring at his shoes as he steadily pushed himself gently back and forth, and he reflected on his life with sadness in his emerald eyes.

The truth was that in barely 3 minutes it was to be Harry's 16th birthday, months since his godfather's death, 15 years since his parent's deaths and over a year from Cedric's. Not to mention the countless others he had seen slaughtered and tortured in his nightmares even more regularly in the past 6 months after he had pulled himself out of depression. And now he sat, cold and alone in an empty park, swinging back and forth, the only noises to be heard the creak of the swing and the rustle of leaves in the bitter night air.

2 minutes…

His best friend Ron had abandoned their friendship after Sirius died; Harry's own grief and the jealousy that Ron still held for him had become too much for the red head. As a result, Hermione had been his only lifeline at school. Harry had grown much closer to Remus, but it still wasn't enough, and as he sat on that swing thinking, he realised that he was very alone.

1 minute…

He felt his skin tingle, which was strange as there had been no breeze, and pulled his jacket closer to himself, feeling a distinct moment of unease. He looked around himself nervously, but found nothing lurking in the shadows in the abandoned night. He shook his head to expel the thought, but the tingling was hard to ignore. He felt as though his skin was being brushed, and it was everywhere from the tips of his fingers to the soles of his feet.

Zero… "Happy birthday," he whispered into the darkness.

But his words finished in a gasp of pain and he fell off the swing backwards, curling up into a ball, his body feeling as though it was going to be ripped apart. He convulsed as his muscles knotted together and his joints felt as though they were being pulled out of their sockets. He wanted to cry out in pain, but he couldn't as his throat wasn't getting off lightly either, and he shook as the pain racked his body.

But as soon as it had come, it left, and Harry rolled onto his back panting hard as he stared wide eyed into the dark sky above. He looked around for a Death Eater, but for some reason he knew that it hadn't been the Cruciatus curse, it was something different, and he got a feeling that it wasn't necessarily a good thing. His skin was still tingling, but as he pushed himself up he felt that his whole body burned and ached, and he was finding it difficult to walk. Harry merely gritted his teeth and stumbled down the road, leaning against gates and trees as he went, soon feeling his eyes begin to prick with tears of pure pain and panic.

As Harry blinked he became even more scared to see his vision had gone red, and as he wiped his eyes and drew his hand back, he stumbled backwards and fell to the floor as he saw blood covering his fingers. He was crying blood, he felt as though a steamroller had hit him, and there was no explanation. Before he could heave himself up again he began to taste the distinctly metal tang in his mouth, and as he raised a finger to his lips, sure enough they were red with it.

He began to hyperventilate, and he had to keep wiping at his eyes to see properly as he pushed himself onward. The more he pushed himself, the more he could swear his bones were crunching together and his muscles were being burned, but he managed to force himself until he reached Private Drive. He barely made it to the Dursley's front garden before he blacked out from pain and exhaustion.

Harry stirred a little as he heard a high pitch scream ring in his ears and give him a headache. He could hear so many sounds, and everything was so damn loud! He tried to roll over, but he couldn't manage it, and he put his face back down to meet the cold feel of his own blood on the ground.

The screaming continued for a few more moments, and his head began to throb as he felt blood pumping to his ears and running down his neck. His entire body was tingling again, but he preferred it to the deep racking pain that engulfed him as he tried to move.

Unfortunately, nobody else seemed to know about that, and moments later he felt himself painfully rolled onto his back. He coughed a little and felt the bubbling of more blood in his throat, each time he opened his eyes the harsh colours that shone back at him were enough to make him close them again. He wanted to groan, but his throat hurt as much as the rest of him, and as he shut his eyes he felt two red tears trickle down his face.

There was more screaming and a lot of talking, and he recognised Dudley's startled slur as he coughed again and more blood fell from his lips. What seemed like seconds, but could have been hours passed, and he began to slip in and out of consciousness, managing to let out a cry of pain as he was lifted from the grass, more blood pouring down his chin.

He began convulsing again, and whoever was holding him up tensed as he shook uncontrollably and bled even more, the pain as bad as he had remembered it from the night before. There were more screams and cries and he felt more people surround him, could feel the magic when their memories were erased.

He had barely stopped when he felt the tug of the port key and threw up some more blood from his empty stomach as his head span from the journey that seemed to last much longer than it did.

…

Draco sat on the front steps of Hogwarts, looking out at the grounds, envious of its life. His father had been sentenced to Azkaban, his mother had fled to somewhere in France without him, and now he was stuck in school for the summer with five Hufflepuffs, three Ravenclaws and absolutely no other Slytherins. Not like he'd want them there any more though, they'd probably disown him now that his father was locked away.

He sighed as he watched some of the others swim in the lake, while some lounged on the grounds, and most of the Ravenclaws read books under the shade of the trees. He propped up his leg in what he knew was a seductive manor for anyone who would have noticed, and continued to stare into the shadows that the sunlight missed, just like him.

His line of vision fell onto the path coming from his left, near the carriages, and he watched with slight curiosity as another thestral came down and landed with a jolt. It continued on for a few further feet but the moment it stopped he saw a man jump out, red hair and bloodshot eyes, followed by Lupin with something in his arms- wait, someone.

He propped himself to focus his keen eyes on the scene before him, but he hadn't needed to as they began hurrying towards him. Whoever was in his arms seemed to be in a pretty bad state, Lupin was all bloody and the body looked pretty limp, but not stiff, which showed that it was at least still alive.

By now, of course, everyone else on the grounds had seen their professor hurrying down the path with a body in his arms, and all laughter had stopped as they watched. Whoever it was had wild dark hair and a slim frame, but it was very hard to put names to the looks. It was only when one Hufflepuff boy recognised whoever it was that they knew.

"Oh Merlin! That's Harry Potter!" he cried as he leapt to his feet and began hurrying across the grounds. And of course, the rest soon followed and Draco noticed Lupin clench his teeth as he tried to pick up his pace to reach the school before they were ambushed. Draco himself wasn't quite as surprised that Potter had managed to get himself into trouble again, but he couldn't help but feel a twang in his gut as he saw the blood dripping from his limp fingers.

And before he could ask himself what in the name of Merlin he was doing, he had gotten to his feet and pushed open the heavy oak doors, leaning against them to let them through. Lupin gave him a half startled glance before giving a small nod and running through, followed by the other man who stunk of alcohol.

"POPPY!" he heard the professor shout before he closed the doors and stood before them as the band of students halted before him.

What was he doing?

"Move Malfoy, let us through!" demanded the fifth year Hufflepuff angrily, wand clenched tightly. Draco raised an eyebrow and folded his arms, shifting his weight on his right foot and boring his eyes into the boy who recoiled a little.

"What if I don't want to?" he asked daringly, letting his lip curl at the edges as the Hufflepuff fumed, but kept quiet.

"Come on guys," he muttered angrily after losing the battle of wills, letting Draco smirk triumphantly as they turned to leave. But Draco's smirk faltered as he remembered what he had just done, and he sat back down with a look of mild shock on his fair features.

"Merlin, am I going soft?" he muttered, taking a fleeting glimpse at the blood on the steps, and he shook his head angrily.

Harry juggled in Moony's arms as he was moved through the halls of his school, only stopping when they reached the door to the Hospital Wing. He coughed again, and his lungs bubbled when he heard the hurried talking of the school nurse. He felt warm hands running along his suddenly very cold skin, before he was jostled again, and he felt the strange comfort of a bed beneath him, more blood falling down his cheeks as he tried to open his eyes.

What the hell was happening? He thought drowsily, before he lost himself to the sleep he had wanted for months.

…

"Would you please join me in my office, Draco?" asked Dumbledore, startling Draco from his thoughts as he looked up at the old man from his perch on the front steps. It had only been- what, half an hour since he had held open the doors, and already they were trying to council him about it. Merlin, he supposed he deserved it though; no Malfoy holds the door for a Potter, even a Malfoy that's been disowned to a Potter that's bloody.

"Yes sir," he muttered, keeping his strange thoughts to himself, as he stood gracefully and began following the headmaster through the corridors. His face was his usual emotionless mask of mystery and charm as he stared straight ahead, lost in himself for the thoughts of what he was going to be talked with about.

Probably to do with his family, he thought half heartedly, although deep down he knew that this wasn't the time to be talking about that, especially when the golden-boy came into the picture. He inwardly rolled his eyes; yes, he was surprised not to see Dumbledore crying at his side yet. He scolded himself and his mask creased into a mild scowl briefly, no, he couldn't go thinking like that, not now that this was the only place he could stay. Besides, if the headmaster can take in the son of a Death Eater when the rest of his family has deserted him, it usually makes that one son in question in that one headmasters debt.

Damn wizard debts, he thought bitterly, but his mask barely even faltered.

"Marzipan mice," he heard, snapping himself out of his trance to see the gargoyle hop aside as the staircase came into view. Even if he was in his debt it didn't mean he couldn't call him a batty old codger now, did it? He mused, a small smile bracing his fair face as he walked gracefully up the stairs after Dumbledore.

"Do take a seat, my boy," Dumbledore said kindly, although Draco could tell that his voice was strained. Looking down, he spotted a tiny dot of blood on his robes and knew that he'd already been to see Ha- Potter. Merlin, he really was going soft. He nodded curtly and sunk into the comfortable chair, thankful for the excuse to draw his mind from his own rather miserable predicament.

"Lemon drop?" he asked half-heartedly, holding out the bowl. Draco was about to decline, but due to the missing sparkle in the old man's eye, he almost felt obliged to take one, and he nodded more softly this time and slid one in his mouth.

"As I'm sure you are already aware, Harry was brought to the castle earlier today with some- injury," the headmaster began, and Draco nodded thoughtfully as he silently moved the sweet around his mouth.

"Do you have any idea what has happened to him?" he followed, and Draco had a hard time disguising his curiosity. Why would he know what had happened to Potter, they seriously didn't think _he _did anything to him, did they?

"No idea, sir," Draco replied, eyeing up the other man suspiciously with his intelligent and harsh grey eyes as he rolled the sweet in his tongue without so much as a twitch from his jaw. The headmaster nodded solemnly before putting his hands together and leaning back in his chair, looking at Draco thoughtfully as he sucked on his own sweet.

"I'm afraid it's a rather strange turn of events," the headmaster mused seemingly to himself, although he still didn't let his eyes leave his student's as he studied him. Draco didn't even flinch, although he was inwardly squirming, being reminded of all of the times his father had looked him up and down only to find something wrong. The headmaster sighed again and looked out of the window as though deep in thought, and Draco began to get agitated, as the other man hadn't explained himself yet. He was just about to ask, when the headmaster quickly turned back to fix his gaze again, and he knew that he was going to explain.

"Harry is presently going through a change that has skipped two generations of his family. Because of his mother's muggle-born blood I was almost certain that it would skip him too, but it seems that Harry still has a few tricks up his sleeves," the headmaster began, and with the last sentence his eyes twinkled a little before they dulled again.

"Draco, Harry is not a normal wizard," Draco held back his disdainful snort, but the headmaster still saw the slight change on his features, although he said nothing about it. "His great-great grandfather was a shadow Veela,"

Draco began to choke on his lemon drop, and bent over in his chair as he coughed, but still barely registered it over the shock. The headmaster frowned before making his way around the desk and knocking his student over the back, by which the lemon drop dislodged and fell to the floor.

Draco sat breathing heavily for a further few moments as the headmaster conjured a glass of water that Draco drank without really knowing what he was doing. His brilliant eyes were widened and no amount of self-control could revive his mask over the look of pure astonishment on his face.

"Wh-" he breathed, but he was in no condition to form a sentence. "You-" he said, staring wide eyed at the headmaster in disbelief. "Wh-" he began again and the headmaster's eyes twinkled a little in amusement as he leant back into his chair again, propping his chin on his knuckles as he watched the younger man. Draco cleared his throat and went about staring at a trinket on the desk between them as he contained himself, and after a few minutes his face was a little better controlled, but still not completely.

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked slowly and cautiously, not eyeing up the other man without bothering to hide his sudden mistrust. The headmaster frowned again and peered at Draco over his half moon spectacles for a moment before speaking.

"Because, my dear boy, you probably know more about Veela than anyone else in this school," he said calmly, studying his student's expressions.

"So?" he retorted, "Just because I read a few books doesn't mean I'm suddenly qualified to hold his dirty secrets!" But the nagging feeling that his arguments weren't going to work made his sentence trail off weakly, and he fixed a glare at the headmaster instead.

"Draco, it is common knowledge that the Malfoy family have been mixing with Veela for centuries, if anything your family are more Veela than anyone else in the country, not to mention that your grandmother herself is one." The headmaster began, and Draco got the sinking feeling that he wasn't just going to be holding secrets.

"So?" he muttered again, looking down as he sunk further into his chair, already dreading the words that were to follow his question. Had he have looked he would have seen the other mans eyes sparkling with hidden mirth, but thankfully didn't see the small smile grace the old man's face before he continued.

"As you already know, Veela are very alluring creatures," he began, and smiled again as Draco winced, "And there is little doubt in my mind that you will be the only student in this school immune to him in the coming years," he finished. Yes, being over a quarter Veela was suddenly showing its bad points, as Veela are the only creatures immune to their own kind. In that moment he would have considered losing the popularity and the looks all for the opportunity to run screaming from the room and the old coot that was going to force Potter on him against his will.

"So?" he muttered again, scowling at his perfect fingers as he wrung them together nervously, hating them for the first time in his life.

"Veela are very social creatures, and I know that you are aware of it already. Harry won't be able to stay in the same quarters as any of the other students, but if he is alone his longing to be with others will do nothing to his mental stability." The headmaster stated.

"You aren't seriously suggesting that I share a dormitory with Potter!" Draco sneered, although his disbelief and shock showed through the bitterness in his voice.

"Indefinitely," the headmaster said, nodding his head. Draco groaned unlike he had ever before, and he put his head in his hands and rubbed his forehead, no longer caring if he messed his perfect hair. This was definitely going to be a disaster.

"But for the mean time Mr Potter will be in the hospital wing, because currently he is going through one of the most painful experiences many people are ever likely to experience", Dumbledore said, but Draco could tell that he believed that Harry would probably go through worse as his blue eyes darkened a shade.

"I believe it lasts for a month with the shadows, is that correct?" he asked, regaining his mirth again. Draco nodded into his hands, and the headmaster smiled again and Fawkes let out a small trill that had very little effect on Draco's sudden bad mood.

"On the 31st of August, Harry's change will be complete, and in my estimate of three days later he will be able to attend lessons and move into your shared dormitory. At the moment he is merely expelling his human blood to be replaced, but soon he will go into a peaceful yet painful state of very little consciousness until he wakes again."

"In that time his body will change blah de blah blah, yeah I get it," Draco mumbled, and the headmaster smiled again as Draco finally lifted his head from his hands, his fringe ruffled and eyes suddenly tired.

"But-" Draco continued, remembering something as he gave the headmaster a curious look, "I thought with the shadows the metamorphous was only supposed to occur when the subject reaches the age of 17," he stated, his perfect eyebrows now knitted in a thoughtful frown. Dumbledore nodded, a proud flash darted past his eyes at his student's extensive knowledge.

"Yes, my boy. The only explanation I can think of is that young Harry's was forced early because his life was dependant on the change." He said, suddenly sober from the mirth he had just shown. Draco's eyebrows knitted further in thought before he seemed to accept it and nodded his understanding.

"If that's all professor?" he asked curtly, needing to be alone to shout, or better yet break something, his Veela temper threatening to show itself.

"Yes, that's all for now thank you Draco," the headmaster replied as Draco lifted himself graciously from his chair and made for the door. But he stopped as his hand reached the handle when the headmaster's voice stopped him.

"You shall be informed of your new sleeping arrangements within the month," Draco grimaced with the words, "And I hope that you will take it upon yourself to help Harry come to terms with his new self, I'm sure your own knowledge on the subject will be of help," he added cheerfully, and Draco shut the door behind him, mumbling words along the lines of 'barmy coot'.

Dumbledore smiled but the twinkle left his eye as he remembered the state that his student was currently in. He waited until he was sure that Draco was gone before sweeping from his office to go and check on Harry, his heart aching every step of the way.


	2. beauté d'ombre

Draco hadn't broken his word, and the moment that he had left the headmaster's office he had waltzed straight into the Slytherin dormitories without a second glance and began breaking things and screaming his pretty head off. But what was even more worrying for him was that he wasn't only screaming form his hatred toward Potter, but his inability to hate him. Throughout their entire conversation Draco had hated himself more and more as his mind kept flashing to the limp figure and the weak emotions like pity and worry that kept swallowing up his rational 5-year-old hatred.

He really was going soft.

He threw the other candlestick off the mantelpiece and it landed with a very dissatisfying 'clunk' on the table without so much as a dent.

"Weakling," he growled to himself as he picked up a delicate wooden chair and smashed it against the wall. It shattered with a very loud crunch and he smiled gleefully before sinking to the floor with the knowledge that his rage was spent up.

Veela were very temperamental, and Draco was no exception.

Eight days later, Draco was once more gliding through the corridors, this time on his way to the hospital wing, still brooding. Since that meeting with the headmaster he had barely spoken a word to anyone, trying to make it clear that he wasn't happy with the coming arrangements, even though it was more to convince himself than anyone else. His usual placid mask had been replaced lately with a slight scowl that creased his brow and accented his cheekbones; making the others wonder if he could ever truly look bad.

They doubted it…

He knew that he couldn't anyway, so he didn't worry…

He shot a quick glance around the room, never even slowing his pace, before striding over to the only occupied bed in the corner and slipping through the drawn curtains. However much his logical mind had stressed that he should under no circumstances visit Ha-Potter (Merlin, softie) he still found himself sinking into the chair by his bed to watch him as he rested. What in the name of was Merlin he doing? It'd only been eight bloody days and already he'd lost to himself in a battle of wills to find himself by the bed of his enemy.

He sat there in complete silence for a few moments with his eyes closed, trying to convince himself that it was not a good idea and that he should leave before he truly saw him. He knitted his eyebrows further, more in a look of desperation than a scowl as he sat on the edge of his chair, practically feeling the body before him as he tried to force his stubborn self to leave.

It didn't work.

He wasn't overly surprised…

His stony eyes opened quickly and became used to the light streaming in from the window much faster than most people, but they still managed to find themselves fixed on the curtain above the bed rather than the patient. It seemed that he still had a little will left, just enough to delay the inevitable for a further few moments as he chanted 'leave, just leave' in his mind. He took a deep breath and a frown that no one else ever saw brushed his gentle features as he sighed, finally giving in to himself.

Slowly his vision wandered down, and it stopped when it came to rest on the sleeping form. He felt himself sink into his chair as he saw the peacefulness on the face of his enemy, and however much he loathed the thought of the serenity that washed over him, he couldn't stop it. He was definitely changing, and Draco could see it more than anyone else; having shot curses at the boy for years.

His dark hair looked a lot shinier, he noticed, it was sleek and a little longer than he had remembered it too. It was spread around his peaceful face like an ebony halo that only made him want to hate him further, but he couldn't. His rough, quidditch abused skin was fair and rosy blushed under his cheekbones, that looked too natural for any sort of makeup. His normal look of saddened pain had left to be replaced with the most peaceful look he had ever laid eyes on, and he was pretty sure that if only there'd been wings he'd have mistaken him for an angel.

"What the hell am I thinking?" he muttered disbelievingly but his eyes never left the form before him.

Dark Veela, he knew for a fact, were the rarest of them all, nicknamed the shadow Veela for their elusive nature and the little knowledge found on them. It was common knowledge on the black magic market that Shadow Veela were worth a lot of money, their beauty unique in comparison to their fair cousins in Europe that are far more common. It's said that for every 1000 light Veela there was one dark, and that the dark were so hard to find that many had given up.

From the little hard evidence that there was on them, gathered from a woman alive nearly 1000 years ago, they found out why they were so hard to find. They were human for the first 17 years of their life until their magic was finally at its peak, and even while their beauty shone out to all who saw them, they could blend much better than the lights. Their powers of seduction were just as strong, and many could go as far as to say that they were even more alluring than other Veela. But because there was so little information on them, even though many believed them to be far more powerful, no one could find anything to suggest that their powers weren't the same to the lights. Of course, they are automatically stronger thanks to their magical wizarding blood, but having one lying right in front of him, Draco couldn't help but feel awed.

"Damn me," he muttered again, but he still couldn't draw his eyes away. The second he had seen his enemy's new face, even though not even half complete, he could tell that he was in for hell in the coming years. Even though he would technically be able to withstand a Veela charm, it didn't mean that it was the same for this one. His beauty was beyond his mother's family in France, and he was sharing a bloody dorm with the menace, walking the halls with him, hell even keeping a bloody eye on him for the headmaster.

Draco blanched… he'd no longer be the best looking in the school. He paled another shade, he'd lose to Potter… the colour came back into his cheeks a little as he looked back at his enemy, well, he thought, at least I can say I lost to that.

His eyes widened in the horror of what he had just thought, and before he could protest, he had already torn open the curtains and run from the room. He needed time alone to think, and maybe check for the Imperius curse while he was at it. He shook his head angrily as he gracefully breezed down the corridors, and knew that for his own mental stability he couldn't ever go back to visit the stupid ruddy Veela, it was giving him a Vulcan mind mould or something, and it wasn't even awake yet. Draco let out a frustrated half cry, half growl as he tore out into the grounds to take a cool dip in the lake.

Albus Dumbledore rose from the chair that he had placed in the corner of the hospital wing as he heard the cry of frustration echo down the corridors to show that Draco had gone. His eyes were sparkling with joy as he walked over to the bed and drew the curtains again to make sure that the boy would sleep undisturbed. It seemed that Harry was having an effect already, he thought idly, driving a Malfoy to talking to himself and running from the room was quite a feat, and even more so in his unconscious state.

He chuckled lightly as he made his way to the door, looking back to see the sleeping silhouette through the curtains, before closing it behind him and heading towards his office. It seemed that Harry would have no problem in finding his life partner in the coming years, and he just hoped that he wouldn't deny the love he was to feel for fear of others' safety. Whoever it was, he mused, although he already had a good idea, would show themselves as a match soon enough. Burying his hand in the pocket of his robes he pulled out a lemon drop and popped it in his mouth, smiling as he heard a splash coming from the lake that could only have been made by one hot headed blonde. He shook his head playfully as he walked, the next generation, he thought happily, were such fun at times.

…

A further 10 days later, and Draco lay on his back by the edge of the lake, catching the last of the summer sun before the days became shorter and the sunlight cooler. His blonde hair shone out against the lush green grass like a beacon to passing airplanes as the sunlight bounced off it to light the space around it. It was in this sort of weather that Draco's bloodlines really showed, and the four girls on the other side of the lake were having trouble concentrating on anything else.

Draco knew that they were staring at him without even opening his eyes, their hushed giggles floating over the water to greet his ears as he smiled wryly to himself. Yes, he still had it, however much of a bastard he acted they always came back. But the thought that those times could change as soon as Potter awoke drove him to the edge of insanity.

He liked his life, yes it had its flaws, he was the son of a Death Eater, his father was in Azkaban, his mother in France and there was a dark lord soon to track him down and try and recruit him. But other than that it was great, he could be a bitch and get away with it, he was handsome, popular, rich, an adequate flyer and had anything and everything at his disposal whenever he wanted it. But now Pothead was just going to waltz in with a new face and take it all away from him, and Draco was pretty sure that by the end of the two years he'd be rich and very much alone.

He sighed, but one would barely notice from the discreet way he let it out. Why couldn't he hate him? He was going to ruin his life, and it didn't take any intuition to work it out, he was going to be popular, he was already rich, he was famous, and Draco knew that he would be pushed aside instantly. But why wasn't he loathing him for it? Why couldn't he bring himself to hate the person who was undoubtedly going to ruin his life without even bloody trying?

"Oof" Draco breathed as something heavy landed on his chest and disrupted his sunbathing. He wondered if it had perhaps been one of those ruddy Hufflepuffs with their muggle ball games again, but he felt pretty sure that he would have remembered had they been feathery. And warm…

He cracked open an eye and leaned forward slightly to let himself take in the strange site of the headmaster's phoenix sitting on his chest, staring at him with disconcerting eyes and a letter in its beak. He raised a delicate eyebrow as he gently took the letter from it and eyed the bird suspiciously as he broke the wax seal and took out the letter. Draco gave the bird one last look before looking back down to the piece of parchment and he began to read it propped up on one elbow.

_Northeast spiral tower, 7th floor, 5th door on the right. Password- beauté d'ombre _

_Enjoy yourself my boy _

_Headmaster Albus Dumbledore _

"You have got to be kidding me," Draco mumbled, his heart once more filling with dread as he looked over to the tower, and back at the letter in his hand. Not only was that stupid tower absolutely miles away from any of his lessons, but it was completely uninhabited too, meaning that he couldn't escape.

The phoenix let out a small chirrup that warmed Draco a little, making him tingle with some sort of unseen magic and he felt some of the dread lift from his shoulders. Trust Dumbledore to send him something to give him absolutely no excuse to go into a sulk, he thought half-heartedly as he suddenly seemed unable to hate anything any more.

"Alright bird-" he began in defeat, addressing the phoenix that was still looking at him with interest, its golden head cocked to the side. "You going to come with me to face my sentence, or leave me to jump off that tower all by myself?" With that the phoenix let out a happy cry and flapped its wings to land gracefully on his shoulder, once more warming him up inside.

"I'll take that as a yes then," he muttered as he scratched the phoenix on the top of its head before heaving himself to his feet and heading towards his newest home with more anticipation than dread. He couldn't help but smile as he felt those envious eyes on the back of his head, his last reminder of better days.

…

"Beauté d'ombre" he muttered to the fair women in the portrait, not stupid enough to miss the conveniently 'hidden' meaning behind the words. _Beauté d'ombre_ roughly translates into shadow beauty, and he grimaced as he spoke them, Fawkes letting out a cheerful cry that eased him a little. He absently scratched the bird again in mild appreciation before he took a deep breath and stepped through the revealed arch, turning as it melted back behind him.

The entrance that had previously been there was now replaced by a lush, hanging tapestry, depicting a moving scene of trees gently swaying in the wind. It was surprisingly tasteful for Dumbledore, he mused as he watched them moving softly, suddenly unaware of his surroundings as he watched as though transfixed.

Fawkes broke him out of his trance with a gentle nip to his ear lobe, and he jerked in surprise before he realised what had bitten him. "Ruddy bird," he muttered dryly and he could have sworn that the phoenix gave him a disapproving look in return. He shrugged off the thought and turned slowly to take in his newest quarters, and was met with mild surprise.

It was far too tasteful for Dumbledore…

The walls were cream with wooden flooring and panelling running half way up the walls, and gleaming like water. In fact, on closer inspection Draco could actually see them rippling in the sunlight, casting dancing lights on the walls in its own natural light show. He quirked an eyebrow as he cast his look over the dark brown leather arm chairs by the huge fireplace, the serene portraits on the walls, the thick carpet by the fire.

There was a bookshelf reaching to the ceiling along the right wall filled with different volumes, their thick spines reading names like _'advanced Alchemy- from the words of the masters'_, _'natural magical components in the British evergreen,' _and _'read the stars- a complete guide for the fluency of celestial readings' _and he couldn't help but feel impressed as he ran a dainty finger over them, practically feeling the wisdom hidden within each page.

He turned around again and looked up to see the oil lamps suspended in the shape of hands on the walls, burning brightly and casting their glow on the comforting room. There were two desks on either side of the room, and upon opening the drawers, he was surprised to find them filled neatly with inkwells, quills and parchment ready for use.

Looking across the room his eyes came to rest on another door leading from the room, reading 'Harry Potter' in golden italics on the front. He snorted, "not like they trust me to pick for myself or anything," he muttered and Fawkes gave him another warning nibble before letting burst a short song that made him forgive the ruddy turkey immediately.

"Bloody manipulative chicken," he muttered, but with little spirit as he read his own name inscribed into a door opposite to the other and began making toward it. The second that his hand wrapped around the brass door knob he felt a brush of heat run through his body but he shrugged it off, knowing that they were merely the wards reading his magical signature. He had to give it to the old coot, even though he was off his head barmy, he was exceptionally brilliant.

Silvery walls glistened in the sunlight and the green silk drapes that hung around his bed fluttered in the wind from the huge open window. There was a spacious wardrobe, a desk, bookshelf and two comfy looking chairs by a small fireplace in the corner all furnished and shining brightly. Due to the colours, he guessed that the headmaster had gone to the effort of colour coding their rooms to make them feel more at home, and it didn't take a genius to work out that Ha-Potters was going to be all Gryffindorish.

He didn't even have the heart to call himself a softie, or mock the Gryffindors in any way, because for the first time in many long years, he finally felt at home.

Back in the hospital wing, Harry stirred gently upon feeling a small tingling wave of happiness brush his body, and smiled in his sleep.


	3. the very definition of beauty

Harry yawned sleepily and stretched in his bed, rolling onto his side and reaching out to pick up his glasses from his bedside table as he always had done. His hand patted at the surface for a few moments before he found them, and he felt the cold sensation of the smooth polished wood greet his fingers pleasantly. He groaned happily as he rolled onto his back, feeling more rested than he could ever remember, and slipped them on. Harry frowned slightly as his glasses; they felt different, strange even, almost like they didn't belong there. He shrugged off that thought and stretched again, slapping his lips together after he yawned and cracked open his eyes.

Everything was blurry, even as he sat up and peered around, it stayed the same, and soon his eyes began to hurt. He frowned and took them off to wipe them, holding them up to his eye to look for any smudges he'd missed, before stopping stony still in shock.

He could see perfectly well…

Slowly, almost as though scared that any sudden movements would ruin this small miracle, he put his glasses back down on the table and peered around. Everything was so… vivid! It was like he'd been looking at the tiniest proportion of the world and now he was looking through a colourful kaleidoscope. The sunlight was so golden, the floor so shiny, the books so old, the portraits so full of life it was unbelievable. Without knowing he had done it his mouth has cracked open a little in awe, and he'd begun swinging his legs over the side of the bed and padding across the floor, his feet suddenly very sensitive to the cold.

He shuddered and smiled with the joy of it all as he began running his fingers over the potions on the windowsill that were casting different coloured lights on the opposite wall. He brushed the wall as he passed, feeling every grain and particle in his touch and his smile grew. Had anyone been watching they would have melted under that smile, but Harry wasn't to know that…

Yet.

He was so lost in the sudden beauty the world held, that for the first time in his life he forgot about all of the suffering he had seen. He forgot about his parents, Cedric, Sirius, Ron, hell he even forgot about Voldemort. For some reason the world was so wonderful Voldemort suddenly that he didn't see any need to look at the bad things in life, because everything was so beautiful that it should be cherished, not ignored.

He had almost reached the door handle before he faltered as he looked down at himself. He was just wearing a pair of flannel pyjamas, and however much he wanted to, he knew that it wouldn't do too well to go wondering throughout the school without some proper clothes on. He smiled with the thought, well, it would be interesting whether it was embarrassing or not, he briefly wondered what Snape would think. He chuckled quietly to himself as he made his way back to his bed. Had anyone else heard they would have sworn that laughter was like liquid gold pouring from the heavens, silky and smooth, laced with mirth and happiness.

Out in the grounds Draco shuddered and stopped in his tracks, wondering where such a strange sensation had come from. Oh well, he thought, it's just someone walking over my grave in the future, before he frowned and went back to his smooth pace. But the nagging feeling hadn't left him; he was just too depressed to notice it.

Meanwhile Harry wasn't even aware that he'd just thought about going out in his pyjamas, a very un-Harry-like thing to do, had he noticed. He would have been even more surprised that he'd made a joke about it containing his potions master, who suddenly for some reason didn't seem so terrible, more- misunderstood. The smile on his face never left him as he bent down and took some clothes out of his trunk, not even beginning to wonder how he'd gotten there with his trunk in the first place, (Oh my god! Where's Harry and what have you done with him?) But for some strange reason he didn't feel any need to know.

What was really strange though, something that not even Harry could ignore, was the fact that his clothes didn't fit him. He could have sworn that they'd been too big for him just; well he wasn't sure when but suddenly he became very intrigued. The once baggy grey tee shirt was clinging to his chest and hanging around his stomach, and the sleeves were threatening to cut off the blood supply to his arms. The jeans he always had to wear with a belt fit him around the waist, but they stopped at his ankles as though they'd shrunk horribly in the wash. He raised an eyebrow, wondering where the hell he'd get some clothes, not even giving a thought as to why they didn't fit.

That's when the bright yellow post-it note caught his attention, sticking on the front of the small wardrobe. Slowly and happily he made his way over to it, for some reason already knowing what it was about.

_Hello my boy, I'm glad that you're finally awake. _

_We took the liberty of doing some shopping for you, seeing as all of those clothes in your trunk are terribly small. Madame Malkins had you measured while you were dozing_

Harry actually laughed at that, not feeling the least bit violated as he once would have felt.

_And with those measurements we were able to get some muggle outfits from London along with the robes she so graciously provided. No worry about the cost, I'm sure it hasn't even made a dent in your fortune. Molly, Ginny and Remus all give their love, and the latter of the three requests that you do your own shopping next time. _

_Don't wonder too far_

_Albus Dumbledore – happy birthday for a month ago_

A month? He asked himself raising his eyebrow in a very Malfoy-ish manor. Even Harry couldn't ignore that small fact, but instead of searching for the answers he felt assured that he'd find them out eventually.

Harry smiled softly and shook his head, imagining Remus' discomfort in shopping with two eager women for someone else. He gently pulled open the doors and peered inside before grabbing the first clothes he thought would match.

Suddenly, as though someone had just pulled on an invisible string, he felt an urge to go out onto the grounds. It was almost a though there was something there that was drawing him to it and his insides suddenly filled with warmth, he was attracted to the source like a metal to a magnet. He smiled with the glow that he suddenly felt ripple through him before walking towards the doors and out into the new world.

…

Although Draco could still hear the whispers of the girls that seemed to be his only fans drift through the air, it didn't comfort him in the slightest. Instead he settled himself by the shore of the lake and watched the water ripple and wash over his feet as the squid broke the surface. He sighed quietly, looking up at the tower he would soon be living in loom like a menacing shadow in the beauty of the castle, but he couldn't bring himself to hate the place. He couldn't bloody hate anything any more, could he? Couldn't hate bloody Potter, couldn't hate the bloody tower, hell he couldn't even hate Dumbledore after his stupid bird decided to give him a little drop of happiness.

"Damned turkey," he muttered, but he couldn't even hate that now. He picked up a pebble and threw it angrily into the lake and it landed with a 'plonk' in the water before him. He shuddered again, the second time that had happened in minutes, and picked up his head a little to find a reason why.

"Someone must be dancing on my grave," he thought glumly, "Shows how happy they'll be that I'm dead," he sighed again and buried his head in his knees as the sun hit his back and warmed him but it still didn't reach his heart.

But Draco didn't know that he was being watched.

The second that Harry had made his way outside his eyes had been drawn to someone by the lake. His blonde hair was blowing in a slight breeze as he was curled up with his head in his knees, and although Harry felt a twang to his heart at the person's misery, he couldn't push back the small smile that had crept up on his face.

The giggling had stopped, and Draco felt a wave of dread as he felt positive that it wasn't a good sign. Either someone had finally got too annoyed with their laughter and had shot them or… he swallowed hard as he felt an icy chill run up his spine. Potter was awake, yes that could be the only reason, and Draco felt himself shudder again with the knowledge that his life was officially over.

Slowly he lifted his head and gave a side-glance at the group of girls that were now ogling at the doorway with their mouths hanging open. How come he could never get them to do that? All he managed was that dreamy expression but Potter had suddenly got full out gawping like toads.

"Bloody Potter, ruddy glory hog," he muttered dryly as he fought his own temptation to look that way too. His eyes were almost being drawn there by something invisible, and he shuddered again. Bloody life, bloody weather, bloody Potter, bloody Dumbledore, bloody bird. Ah, it'd come back… at least for the latter of the few anyway. He was still having difficulty hating Potter though, damned Potter, making him go soft. He growled low in his throat and threw another pebble into the lake that hit the giant squid and made it submerge.

Harry watched with a blank expression that was completely outdone by his sparkling green eyes, both poised on the same exact point across the lake from him. He surprised himself by barely finding any shock at all in discovering that the blonde was in fact Draco Malfoy, the same boy who he had hated since he was 11. But he was suddenly having a bit of trouble remembering why he'd hated him in the first place; Draco was a bitch to everyone, so it couldn't have been too personal.

But in this moment Draco looked the very definition of Beautiful, glistening blonde locks, creamy skin, harsh grey eyes like a thousand thunder storms, small rosy lips. He began nibbling at his bottom lip without noticing as he watched Draco throw another pebble into the lake to hit the squid dead centre.

Alright, he decided, he couldn't take this torture anymore; he was going to that stupid tower to drown his stupid sorrows in some last minute homework. He'd been trying to wait it out until Potter disappeared again so that he could stay out in the sun, but not only was it obvious he wasn't leaving, Draco could tell that he was in fact looking directly at _him._ He gave another envious glance at the girls who still hadn't taken their eyes from the doorway and gave a half-hearted sneer as he walked away.

To most it would seem that Draco hadn't noticed them at all, but for some reason Harry could tell that he was just avoiding his direction. He smiled with the thought of the blonde purposefully _trying _not to look at him, and let his eyes follow the other boy as he got up and made his way towards the north side of the castle. He sighed the minute the blonde had left his sight, and for the first time since he had caught glimpse of the other guy, he saw the four girls gaping at him.

Did he have bed hair or something? He thought, feeling suddenly a little self-consciousness as he raised an arm to his hair and ran his hand thought it. It was very silky, and much easier to touch than he'd remembered it before now. He pulled a waved lock from behind his ear and straightened it out at he peered at it intently. He'd never noticed that his hair shone so much in the sun, or looked so… different.

Oh well, he thought as he shrugged gently, all will be revealed in time. And for the first time in his life in the strangest of moments, Harry had absolutely no desire to go looking for an answer that he felt sure would come to him. Slowly he turned back around to make his way back to the hospital wing, the image of Draco still fresh in his mind, the scent of his cologne in the air still as strong as though he'd been feet away.

"Oh, hello headmaster," Harry said politely as he turned to see the wizard behind him, staring out into the grounds just as he had done with a twinkle in his eye. He stepped back half a pace to see if his view had been distorted with the closeness, but sure enough he was surprised to find himself at eye level with the tall man's nose. Odd… he thought. Harry raised an eyebrow upon hearing his voice, deeper and softer than he had remembered it. "My voice is a little odd this morning," he commented and couldn't help but smile as the headmaster let out a chuckle.

"This morning's a very odd morning my dear boy," he said merrily, and Harry could tell he was very happy about something. He wondered if perhaps he had been there longer than he'd thought…

"We have a lot to discuss, come, come inside Harry," he began, stepping aside and putting a hand on Harry's shoulder as he walked back through the doors. Harry smiled thankfully, and wasn't even aware that it was the first time in his life that he'd liked a person's touch without tensing and pulling away.

"But first-" the headmaster continued, his eyes going off like fireworks in the back of his head, "I will give you a tour of your new quarters."

"Quarters?" Harry asked, intrigued. Perhaps it had something to do with being in the upper years, did everyone have their own rooms?

"Ah, all shall be revealed in time, I assure you," Dumbledore returned, and Harry merely nodded, happy that his ideas had been correct. And he flowed as gracefully as water alongside the other man as they made their way through the corridors, talking more freely and happy than they ever had before.

…

"Beauté d'ombre" the headmaster said especially loud so that Harry would remember it, but Harry would have heard it perfectly had he whispered. His eyes lit up as he watched the arch melt into place after a smile from the woman in the portrait and he was deeply reminded of those happy moments that he had spent in Diagon Alley. Dumbledore's eyes twinkled just as brightly as he held out his arm for Harry to walk through, and Harry sent him a smile before he stepped inside.

It was gorgeous, and there were no other words to describe it. It was so homely he just felt -right.

"Do you like it?" the headmaster piped in from his side and Harry turned with eyes that sparkled with joy and nodded in return. Dumbledore felt a warmth run through him like he hadn't felt in years upon seeing this once desperate and neglected boy shine with the love and pleasure that he never had a chance to feel before, becoming a young man.

"I'll show you to your room," he added and smiled as Harry dumbly nodded and followed him to the other side of the room. The headmaster stepped aside at the closed door and hadn't opened it, and Harry wondered what he was doing.

"Oh- don't worry Harry. The door handle is set to read the first magical signature it comes into contact with for the wards," he assured, and Harry nodded before reaching out for it. He felt the warmth and magic pass through him and tingle his skin before it dulled and the door clicked open, and he pushed it gently aside.

The walls looked cream but glistened golden in the light, deep red drapes hung from a magnificent four-poster bed and a rich red carpet covered the wooden floor before a small fireplace and two chairs. There was a desk, a wardrobe and bookcase, the basics, but so ornate and grand that they seemed like so much more, especially for someone who had been used to so little.

"This is really- wow," Harry breathed as he spun around to take in the whole room as the headmaster stood to one side and smiled. He let his favourite pupil bask in the beauty and take in his surroundings for a few minutes before he would break the moment. Finally Harry flopped down on his bed with a plastered smile that seemingly never left any more and Dumbledore took it as his cue to speak.

"Now, I'm sure you have quite a few questions," he guessed, and for the first time he was wrong, but Harry nodded anyway. "I'll just call your new roommate from his bedroom and we can have a chat in the common room, how does that sound?" he asked, and Harry's eyes sparkled with a curiosity that he kept well hidden.

Roommate? He thought, so that was what that strange sensation had been the moment he had passed through the arch, it was the presence of another person. He felt a wave of stomach fluttering anticipation as he wondered if maybe- just maybe- he would be sharing a room with the one person he wanted to have all to himself.

He smiled and walked dreamily after the headmaster, and had sat himself down in one of the warm leather chairs before he knew that he'd even got up from his bed. He couldn't seem to wipe the smile from his face, but he snapped out enough to watch the headmaster walk over to a door on the other side of the room.

Harry peered keenly over the headmasters shoulder to read the silver name carved in italics on the door just as his own, and his smile grew to a grin as his stomach burst and a ripple of warmth brushed over his skin.

_Draco Malfoy_, it read, and he had to summon all of his strength to smother the grin lighting up his face. He turned away and gave the fireplace a huge white smile before quietly clearing his throat to rid his face of the expression, but his eyes still sparkled.

…

Draco let his careful handwriting sweep across the page as he went onto his fifth foot of essay, even though his head of house had only asked for four. In his attempts to rid his mind of the images he was bringing up of one certain brunette that he logically realised may not have been looking at him at all, he had become so overly involved in his essay on love potion (fitting, huh) that he couldn't bring himself to stop the huge flow of words that were coming from his quill. His careful green ink swirled from the nib of his black feather like the coils of a snake, and he barely even registered that he'd been listing the different types of love that occurred due to the affects of different strengths for over two feet now.

Later he would regret it, but for now he hardly noticed.

The sun flickered across his face and page with the shadow that was being cast by a stray creeper that was swaying gently in the breeze and the velvet drapes on his bed fluttered gently, sending wisps of warm air around the cool room. But a gentle knocking from his door broke him out of his thoughts, and his quill slipped leaving a thin line sweeping off the edge of his page. He glared at the offending mistake before sighing upon hearing the voice on the other side of the door.

"Draco, would you mind coming out to have a chat?" he asked and just by the sound of his voice Draco could tell that Dumbledore's eyes were flashing. Draco sighed, but was still reluctant to leave as he shuddered again and felt a strange warmth envelope his right side, the side closest to the common room.

"Uh…" he began, in a very un-Malfoy manor, "I'm in the middle of a potions essay headmaster, it's due in tomorrow, I think I may have left it too late." He tried desperately but the reluctance that showed through in his voice was very different from that of wanting to carry on with homework.

"I assure you, this will only take a moment." He countered, and Draco grimaced. He wasn't in the mood to see anyone, or talk, or even think for that matter. 'Shit,' he thought sadly, giving a glance at the door as though it was his father on the other side. He sighed quietly and put his head on the desk.

"Alright, just… give me a moment," he muttered into the table.

"Very well," Dumbledore said happily and Draco heard the shuffle of feet as he made his way over to the other end of the room. Draco picked his head up from the desk and pinched the bridge of his nose, suddenly feeling extremely tired and very much not in the mood. Nevertheless, he knew that he couldn't break his word to the old coot, and besides, it may be nothing.

But nothing was that simple for Draco…

He laboriously heaved himself from his chair by the open window and prowled over to the mirror in the corner to check whether he was still presentable. His grey eyes looked a little strained but they were still bright and sharp, his skin wasn't flushed from writing and his hair wasn't a mess. His white shirt wasn't yet creased and his flies were still done up. He looked down and wiggled his toes as he saw he wasn't wearing any shoes, but shrugged it off, as he couldn't really be bothered to dress up for the headmaster.

He gave his reflection the dirtiest look he could currently summon just to make sure he could still do it if it was called for, before turning on his heel and padding across the thick green carpet toward the door.

…

Harry couldn't help but glance at the closed door every few moments from the side of his eye or over the brim of his cup of tea anxiously. Although the face of the grandfather clock on the corner read that it'd only been five minutes or so, it felt more like hours to him. Every time he read the name on the opposite door he felt an excited chill run up his spine and he had to take another sip to hide his sudden rush of feelings and cover the flush on his cheeks.

All the while the headmaster's eyes were going off like millennium fireworks combined with the garish lights of Las Vegas (very sparkly) with an intelligence and pleasure beyond words.

When finally Harry heard the small click of the door being opened he nearly jumped from his seat, but instead jerked his head slightly and took another hurried sip of his tea, which had been refilled already. Dumbledore merely smiled and rested his gaze on the opening door.

Draco plastered his face with his usual unreadable expression as he shut the door behind him and gracefully made his way over to the chairs by the fire, intrigued by this sudden flush of warmth when he could only see the headmaster.

"Ah Draco, do take a seat," he said cheerfully as though he hadn't been waiting for him for the past five minutes. Draco nodded, hiding his curiosity, and took the chair furthest away.

Only when he had sunk into the leather chair and spotted the uncanny twinkle in the old mans eye had he realised who else was there. His insides immediately turned icy and he forced himself not to widen his eyes comically before he took a long calming breath and slowly, very slowly, turned his gaze to look at the other person.

Sweet mother of Merlin…

Look up sexy in the dictionary and look what you get!

Draco barely hid the flush on his creamy cheeks after realising what he had just thought, and tore his eyes away to force himself to focus on the headmaster. Potter…was…hot…no! Potter was Potter…But, well _that…_

No amount of preparation could have readied him for _that._

He was tall, dark, and handsome. His green eyes shone like jewels from his creamy face, smooth skin complimented long eyelashes and delicate eyebrows. He was definitely taller, he didn't even need to see him standing, and he looked a lot better… built, to put it lightly… than before.

"You-" Draco began, clearing his throat as his voice seemed higher than he had intended, "You wanted to speak with me, headmaster?" he asked formally, his face once more unreadable although inside he was squirming. The sparkle in the old man's eyes was enough to tell him that the coot knew what he was thinking, and he subconsciously sunk a little lower into his chair.

"Yes Draco, I was hoping for some assistance in filling Harry in on our present situation," he said happily, and once more Draco could say he officially hated the blighter. But Draco merely nodded and stared darkly at the barmy wizard for putting him in such a difficult situation.

"Harry-" he began, forcing Harry to tear his eyes away from the blonde, although he barely even tried to hide his sudden fascination, "Would you like the simple explanation, or the not so simple?" Dumbledore asked. Harry didn't even have to choose; all he wanted was for this to be over with so that the headmaster would leave. Because however much he loved the man like a grandfather, he didn't like sharing.

"Simple," he said a bit too quickly, and the headmasters eyes twinkled a little brighter but he merely nodded and sunk back into his chair.

"Harry, your great-grandfather was a shadow Veela, and although it has skipped the past two generations of your family the trait had surfaced in you." Dumbledore said, suddenly sober of his mirth.

"Oh, really," Harry said absently, "How can you tell?" The headmaster was more than a little astonished to see this boy he thought he knew so well barely listening to the biggest news he'd heard in years, and most people in a lifetime. But he didn't show it, and looking back to the blonde staring intently at the fireplace with a straight back and an unreadable expression he could guess why.

"You haven't looked in the mirror lately, have you Potter?" Draco snorted, but his eyes never left the fireplace. Harry was merely too thrilled at hearing his wonderful, silky voice that he didn't notice the sarcasm behind his words.

"Perhaps you could show him, Draco," the headmaster offered, and for the first time since their conversation started, Draco's eyes met his with a sharp, calculating look that reflected his intelligence and hidden Ravenclaw talent from his mother's side. Draco held his gaze for a further few moments before he nodded sharply and swept from the room, his long, fast strides showing his desperation to leave entirely.

Harry's heart almost wined at the loss of the blonde, and immediately picked up again as he came back in minutes later with something under his arm. A full-length mirror was placed in front of his chair to show him his reflection, but he let his eyes follow Draco to his seat as he studied his movements and grace before he turned to the glass.

"Woah…" he breathed.


	4. in the name of love

Draco stared up at the empty crisp white ceiling from within the secure velvet walls of his canopy bed. He was in complete silence as he listened to the wisp of the wind outside of his window. His white gold hair tickled the back of his neck as he lay, but his stormy grey eyes were filling the silence.

However much he thought he hated it, Draco still managed to crawl back into his bed that night with one face firmly burned into his mind. Potter, the very same one who had declined his friendship in first year, the very same Potter that had got him beaten by a bloody hippogriff, the Potter who was annoying, arrogant and fun to tease because of his short temper. The Potter who he'd nicknamed scar face to annoy him, and called his friend a mudblood because they were associated.

And now, well he was just so bloody confused! Even if he _could _admit that the idiot was hot, and that this hot idiot was obviously interested in him, it was a matter of sheer _principle, _which meant that he couldn't abandon everything he'd stood for or done just because he looked better! Draco had tossed and turned that night to the extent of breaking his shoulders and rolling off the bed, but even the thought he'd given it couldn't make it any easier.

Potter was hot and Potter was interested, but Potter was still a _Gryffindor_, still an idiot and however much he begged, Draco would under no circumstances abandon his past work just because of those two reasons. Easier said than done, huh.

Draco shut his eyes and frowned into the darkness, from beneath his sheets and the walls he should have felt secure, comfort, but he couldn't sleep. Whenever he shut his eyes two brilliant glowing emeralds lingered in the darkness, seeming to draw nearer the longer he looked, and he had to open his eyes again.

What in the name of Merlin was happening? Nothing like this had _ever _happened to him, he'd dated or been with half of the school already and many more out of it, and there had been people just as hot as Potter, but these feelings, they were so- out of place. Why did he shudder whenever Potter got near? Hell he even shuddered when he wasn't there! Maybe he was ill, hopefully it was contagious and Pothead would catch it and die.

His frown deepened, throughout all of the years he'd wanted nothing more than to see Potter suffer, why now, of all times, was he dreading the thought? He rolled onto his side to stare at the velvet separating him from the rest of the world, shielding him from the idiocies he was hiding from and sighed.

He really was going soft, next moment he'd be playing those stupid muggle games with the bloody Hufflepuffs.

Right, it was official, he wasn't going to get any sleep without magical aid, and he wasn't going to go spoiling himself with sleeping drought. He carefully peeled back the covers and slipped out through the velvet curtains, feeling himself shiver as they brushed his bare face and arms.

Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end from the darkness of the common room, making the skin on his arms flourish in goose bumps. Every time he'd closed his eyes he was haunted by the one thing he could have, the one person so perfect yet just out of reach.

He heard the creak of floorboards through the door on the other side of the room and his heart almost stopped. Quickly and silently he rose from the chair he had been curled on and sunk into the shadows.

Draco padded across his room as he pulled on a black tee shirt, as he hadn't previously been wearing anything to hold back the sudden rush of cold. His green satin pyjama trousers flowed like water as he walked to put on his slippers and yawned into his hand. So now he was tired suddenly, why couldn't his sleep patterns just be normal?

Oh, he knew why he was still awake at such an ungodly hour. He remembered the times he'd stayed awake so that he could hear his father come home drunk so that he might have a chance to get away. He remembered the fear he lived in as a child, a small boy cowering in his bed in fear of the very person he was supposed to feel safe with. He remembered his mother's screams and cries and his father's curses, and the wounds felt as fresh as the day they had been made, even though they had healed years ago.

Harry was hit with a wave of icy dread, and knew instantly what had caused it. He frowned but waited patiently on the chair hidden in the darkness, he felt a tingle as though an egg had just been cracked upon his head, and suddenly felt sure that he wouldn't be seen.

Draco walked over to his window and drew back the curtains to stare out into the pitch darkness that seemed to make his shadowed room seem bright. There was no moon, and the stars seemed like insignificant pin pricks on the canopy of black that spread over the dark silhouettes of the trees in the forest, the only distinguishable shapes he could see. He frowned, having never liked dark nights in the fear of what he could not see, and shut the curtains again.

His silver walls glittered in the darkness like fairy lights and he felt his aching heart ease a little in the sight. His room was basking in silver, the outlines of his furniture comforting in comparison to the uniform black looming just outside of his window. He ran a hand through his hair and tied it at the back to keep it from his eyes, but one small piece fell into his face and wouldn't go back.

He walked smoothly across the thick carpet by the fireplace and picked his wand out of his trunk, before making his way toward the door.

Harry's ears pricked up as he heard the click of Draco's door being opened and once more he was basked in warmth like sunlight in the darkness. He'd been up for about half an hour already, trying to sort out his thoughts, but all he ended up doing was daydreaming. Now his daydreams could be reality, even if he couldn't touch it, and that thought alone warmed his aching heart.

Draco felt a tingling sensation run through him as he let go of the handle, and assumed that it was something to do with the wards again. He was wrong, but his ignorance shielded him from the shadow sitting in the corner watching him with longing eyes.

Silently he shut the door behind him so that he wouldn't wake anyone up and break his time of peace and solitude, as the person he least needed to see was Potter. Just the thought of him was strange, he was fighting with himself all of the time not to switch to first names or even think about him at all. It was like he'd been bloody brainwashed or something, it was ridiculous.

He shook his head and scolded himself, soon he'd be handing out sweets to children and helping old people across the street, and this needed to be nipped in the bud before it escalated out of control.

He stopped walking as he reached the centre of the room by the window, and was greeted with the same impending darkness he had seen moments before. He barely saw his own reflection from the darkness of his room, but the face that stared back at him was hardly his own. His eyes were tired and drawn and he didn't wear the same perfect mask that he plastered on every day to shield himself from life. His face wasn't hidden behind his hair, held behind his neck, and his shoulders were folded forward like wings as he dropped his perfect posture in a moment of weakness.

He was far too young for this, far too young for Voldemort, and far too young for these strange feelings. He had a life to live, he had people to ditch the day after and new experiences to have, and yet he suddenly felt as though he'd been alive a thousand years.

He reached out slowly and ran his fingers along the window to find the curtains in the near darkness to pull them over and hide the outside world. As he folded them carefully over each other to cover the glass completely the darkness that met his eyes was not harsh and cold, but soft and safe, and he smiled in contentment before he slid down to the floor.

That tapestry, the trees gently swaying, their branches making no sound as their leaves ripped and soared through the woven sky, was the only thing he could make out. Their woollen trunks bent but never snapped, and the leaves flew through the air as though they didn't have a care in the world. He wished he could submerge himself in the still picture forever and just disappear, but in turn that thought made him wonder what he'd leave behind.

Not his father, not his mother.

Not his 'friends', or his lovers.

What would he truly miss, would it be the riches? He doubted it. What he'd miss he never even knew, if he were to leave the one thing he'd miss would be the love he never had, and he would hand his fortune over for just a taste. But there was something there, deep down, that he thought he'd miss. What it was he wouldn't know, but someone else did.

But suddenly he was very tired.

Harry watched sadly as the blonde tipped his head back and leant against the wall, letting out a long breath that he felt Draco had held for a long time. He looked so beautiful in the darkness, but Harry could make out every patch of skin from his shadowed hiding place, through his emerald eyes.

Slowly he rose from his chair and made no sound as he walked across the cold wooden floor, just a little closer. His heart was trying to break from his chest to reach out and touch his glistening hair, his soft skin, but he held back in respect.

So bloody tired, you'd think he'd be able to sleep in a bed but _no _he sits down on the bloody floor and suddenly he wants to drop dead. Bloody Potter, its all his bloody fault I'm still awake and now cold, damn him, he thought dozily.

Draco fought to keep open his eyes, as a cloud seemed to blanket his mind and he was strongly reminded of his history of magic classes. Binn's drone suddenly filled his ears and once more he felt as though he'd been hit with a stunner. His head lolled a little to the side and he picked it back up again only to have it go the other way.

Harry kept by the wall as the centre of the room was far too bright and he may show up against it, but all the while made no sound at all. Draco was fighting with sleep, and he couldn't help but let a smile curl the edge of his lips as he saw his persistence and the strange place he'd decided to sleep in. Normal people sleep in beds, but it was soon becoming apparent that Draco was by no means normal, and he loved it.

He loved everything, he loved that hair he just wanted to touch, that skin that seemed as fragile and perfect as porcelain, his fingers that moved like cream coloured spiders. He loved the way he walked, the way he moved his hips and the way he swept back the one strand of hair that never stayed in place. He wanted to curl that strand around his fingers and tell Draco that he shouldn't always try to hide it. He loved his voice, the way words came so fluently that they flowed form those lovely lips like a siren's call, and most of all he loved those stormy eyes that he had wanted to lose himself in for days, but that had always been pointed the other way.

He loved everything, he loved Draco.

He flickered his eyes open again and yawned as he slipped a little further down and stretched his arms. Damned sleep patterns, but the wall seemed extremely comfortable, and the cool floor was enticing.

Bloody Potter, he thought as his eyes closed and he slowly slid down the wall and onto his side.

A shadow moved in front of the dim glow of the tapestry, and had Draco been awake this is what he would have seen.

A silhouette, as black as shadow and solid as flesh, but wispy like thick fog so submerged into the darkness that it was barely seen. But it was recognisable as a person, the shadow looked just that- a shadow. It was tall and lean with a neck covered in the darkness of its hair, fog branching off to arms and legs that seemed to be real, yet were barely there.

Hmm… Harry thought as he held up his hand and turned it over, seems the name's more literal than I originally thought.

In the darkness the shape moved gracefully over toward the stooping figure, and could swear that the floor was sending tingles up from his toes the closer he got. His heart was drumming in his hardly visible chest and he felt his stomach flutter as a shudder moved down his spine.

On the floor Draco stirred as the hairs stood up on the back of his neck, and curled up a little to keep the warmth that he was suddenly losing.

Barely three feet away, and Harry was having trouble controlling his sudden urge to wrap Draco in his arms and never let him go, to feel the lines of his lips against his own, that skin and hair he'd always wished to touch. He smiled as Draco stirred and took another two steps forward and swallowed hard, Draco looked like a fallen angel.

Slowly, he closed the gap; the invisible hook in his heart tugging as though he'd caught a fish, as his heart drummed like the fast percussion of a song. Another shudder crept through him as he bent down on one knee and looked at the apple of his eye as though an exhibit on display.

His legs were tucked up together as though they had been placed that way, and his beautiful mouth was slightly open as he breathed slow and steadily, his long breaths moving his perfect figure up and down in rhythm beautifully. He was envious of how he could be so peaceful even though the expression on his face suggested otherwise, his breathing steady, whereas his was becoming harsh.

Another shudder went through him and he ignored it, completely absorbed in the moment.

His fingers hovered inches away from the unconscious form because he was scared that if he touched this wonder it would simply disappear, maybe it was just meant to see from a distance. His shadowed emerald eyes danced in the wonder of this beauty, skirting across Draco's length, in hope that he could map out the image forever. He reached out again but his fingers began to tingle and he pulled back and frowned, on looking back the frown was replaced by those dreamy eyes and he worked up the courage to try again.

This time the tingle didn't stop him…

He felt his core explode and a burst of warmth and power made him silently gasp as he reached out and touched the side of his face. His skin was so smooth and soft to touch; it was so perfect and fragile. Draco moaned quietly, and Harry pulled away as he rolled onto his back but once more Draco quietened and lay motionless and he swallowed hard and reached out again.

Harry lowered his other knee and slipped to the side to tuck his legs beneath him as he gazed longingly at the person he'd known for years but had never truly seen. His golden hair was hanging over his face a little, while most was still tied, and he reached out to touch it. His hair was so silky, and he brushed his fingers over it, barely touching it. He lifted up a strand with his finger and put it behind Draco's ear, smiling as it fell back down again, as it always did. His hair was like strands of spiders' silk, so fine and delicate yet magnificent like a lion's mane against his beautiful face.

Slowly he ran his thumb across Draco's cheek, and his eyes fluttered a little before he settled again as Harry felt the same tingle with his touch. He wanted to do so much more but he knew that Draco wouldn't take kindly to it, and it hurt him to think that the only way he could touch him was when he wasn't aware of it.

But as Draco shifted uncomfortably on the cold floor Harry knew that this moment couldn't last, and that his Draco needed to be in bed.

He felt his insides lurch as he leant forward and slipped his arm beneath Draco's legs, surprised when he didn't even stir. He was cold but warmth pulsated off him like magnetic attraction, and Harry smiled upon knowing that Draco would never let anyone do this if he were awake. He carefully lifted his shoulders and slipped his other arm beneath, and Draco folded as though he fitted and rested his head against the shadowy chest. Harry smiled and once more that strange feeling washed over him as he carefully raised them both from the floor.

He wasn't necessarily light, but Harry felt that he would have struggled had he not received his new physique over the summer. Thinking about the times before then, he could hardly imagine them happening, and even though he remembered every moment it was like he was looking through someone else's eyes. Those feelings he had felt before, the pain and the heartache, seemed like a distant memory, and he was astounded by how he had not realised the beauty around him.

He looked down and smiled as Draco nuzzled against his chest- like this beauty. This innocent, beautiful, perfect being had been right under his nose the whole entire time, and he'd never realised it. How could he have been so ignorant?

He pushed the curtains back a little with his elbow and was no longer aware that the sparkling walls were shining off his dark form giving him a silver outline. Draco moaned as Harry gently placed him back down on the bed and the blonde frowned in his sleep at the loss of the warm body. Harry wanted nothing better than to hold onto him forever, but the night wouldn't last forever.

He pulled the covers over and watched Draco snuggle against them, but the frown still showed in his perfect eyebrows and he couldn't help but smile. Reaching out, he brushed the hair from his eyes and gently removed the hair band that had been holding it back, watching as with a small movement of his head Draco's hair had fanned out into a halo around his face.

So perfect…

He ran his hand through the liquid gold that sparkled with the silver walls and smiled to himself, his heart wining for more contact than he could allow himself. Draco's face softened as he brushed the back of his hand over his cheek and once more the tingling sensation enveloped him, and Draco shuddered and smiled.

The first smile he'd ever seen Draco give, he realised, and it was the most beautiful smile he had ever seen.

He had begun leaning forward without thinking of the consequences, and as his lips brushed those underneath him something inside of him seemed to burst. He pulled away to see Draco's eyes flutter open a little, and his insides froze with the thought that he'd been caught. But Draco merely blinked dozily before his eyes brushed closed again; his blonde lashes interlocking to hide those beautiful stormy eyes as he fell asleep again with a small smile to his lips.

Harry frowned as he leant forward and kissed his forehead, before raising himself from the bed, pretending that it didn't hurt to see Draco moan at being left alone again, and closed the curtains behind him.

He had left the core of his being, in the name of love.

The hairs on the back of the sleeping form's neck settled again as the curtains were drawn, and he frowned in his sleep.


	5. The pillar of perfection

Morning sunlight streamed in through the high windows of the Great Hall the next morning, flooding the room with warmth, and casting a golden glow on everyone inside. The ceiling was bright and clear with small grey clouds floating amiably over the blue backdrop, like an oil painting, even though it had been raining the night before. The hall was filled with the smells of fresh grass and wet wood from the heavy rain, and the grass and branches sparkled in the brilliant sunlight as it bounced off the droplets like glistening diamonds.

Albus Dumbledore took a deep breath as he looked out upon his students, his surrogate children, and smiled knowing that it was the start to another great day. He folded his hands over his beard, and leant a little further back into his chair, letting his crystal blue eyes sparkle with his content. For even though he was terribly good at keeping his emotions tight when needed, when among the next generation, one couldn't help but let their feelings show.

His smile brightened as he saw Minerva, his every faithful deputy headmistress, take the seat next to him, and even before she had said a word he knew what she was thinking. The thought merely made his eyes sparkle a little brighter, and silently he conjured a small daffodil into his hand.

"Isn't it such a wonderful morning Minerva," he greeted, turning to her and handing over the daffodil, making her eyes widen a little in surprise. He let out a small chuckle and watched as she cleared her throat and placed the flower in her glass of water before regaining her professional stance and turning to face him.

"Albus, are you sure that this is a good idea?" she asked carefully, and he turned back to look upon his students and couldn't help but smile.

"Am I sure what is a good idea, Minerva?" he asked cheekily and glanced at her from the side of his eye as he smiled. She huffed and began pouring herself a cup of tea as she continued.

"You know perfectly well what I mean Albus- this is no laughing matter!" she scolded as he began chuckling again, and he had the decency to look down as she told him off, but couldn't wipe the smile from his face. "There'll be riots within the week, girls-"

"And boys," he corrected.

"And boys," she continued, eyeing him suspiciously, "Will be tearing each other's hair out, and Mr Filch will have more students in detention than he's ever had before!" His lips curled into the smallest of smiles as he continued to look out at his students thoughtfully, and for a moment the deputy thought that she might finally be getting through to him.

"I can't image him complaining about that," he said after a while, yet another time the headmaster had found a way to twist her arguments. She shook her head and began buttering herself a piece of toast with her lips pursed into a thin line.

"I didn't say a word when you placed him in the same dormitory with Mr Malfoy, whom I might add he has hated since he arrived at the school, but I can't stand and watch something that will affect the entire school. Not to mention the staff, Albus! We'll be tearing our own hair out! The grades will fall because of lack of concentr-"

"Minerva, I can assure you that everything is under control," he interrupted, smiling encouragingly as he took a sip of his morning tea, before looking back out at the rest of the school.

"How can you possibly have it under control?" she asked shrilly, "He's going to have every student either loathing or loving him!" but her argument began to trail off when he saw the knowing glint in his eye and instead her lips pursed again and she gave him a stern look.

Albus smiled when he saw that she had finished, and gave her another side glance before half of his face disappeared as he lifted his tea cup to his lips. He loved the deputy dearly, but she was very quick to jump to conclusions, although he did admit that he found it rather fun to tease her.

"All Harry has to do is arrange his affairs correctly. At the moment there will be a lot on his mind, understandably, and as Veela are very emotional creatures it is only to be expected that his charm will increase due to all that he has to deal with." He explained finally, and Minerva felt her eyes widen a little before she controlled herself again.

"You're not suggesting Occlumency again, are you headmaster?" she asked, and he noted that she addressed him formally with that icy edge to her voice. Yes, not many people had been too happy with his efforts to teach Harry the art, Severus especially, but he alone knew that it was no longer needed. Veela minds were almost as hard to break into as Werewolves, and he felt that that was one of the many factors that had lead to his early development.

"No Minerva," he said, shaking his head and chuckling, "I can safely say that there is no longer any need for that." Once more that calculating look flashed in her eyes, and he knew that he'd be questioned for it later. Unfortunately it seemed that it hadn't swayed the subject.

"What do you propose then?" she asked warily and his eyes brightened. She knew that he'd been planning something, and once more her instincts told her that whatever it was shouldn't be tampered with. But for the first time since she had sat down she thought to look out upon the students, and she carefully turned her head and followed his eyes.

He was looking directly at Harry Potter, and she raised her eyebrow at him and he merely smiled more, before nodding towards him to make her look again. Reluctantly she turned and looked upon the infamous boy whom everyone had to agree looked different. She was happy however that he'd managed to keep his parents characteristics, and he no longer looked as underfed.

But as she looked at his green eyes she noticed that he was staring longingly at something on the other side of the room, and without thinking, her eyes had began trailing his. She frowned in thought as she seemed to lose the trail as her eyes rested on the thoughtful and troubled stance of Draco Malfoy on the edge of the Slytherin table, staring at his toast but not touching it. She looked back up to see the headmaster looking at her with that sparkle, and she turned back to see what she had missed.

Twice she followed Potter's gaze, and each time she found her eyes coming to rest on the Slytherin. It was only then that what the headmaster had been planning began to sink in.

"How very Slytherin of you, Albus," she muttered as she watched the two boys thoughtfully and heard the headmaster chuckle in recognition as she brought her toast to her mouth.

"Why thank you, Minerva," he said, beaming.

…

Draco had had the strangest dream he could ever remember having, and everything about it was both disturbing and somewhat welcomed. Whenever he thought back to it his stomach fluttered and he subconsciously brought his fingers to his lips to remember that strangely real kiss that he had felt. But at the same time his stomach lurched with his remembrance, because it felt far too real to be a dream. It wasn't even really a dream, it was like a flash of a dream and whenever he thought about it he shuddered.

Maybe he was going insane; he couldn't say he'd be too shocked.

Again the brief image flashed past his unfocused stormy eyes, and again his fingers strayed to his lips. He remembered the feelings, his skin being brushed and caressed, soft but powerful lips upon his own. He remembered opening his eyes to see a shadow that seemed so strangely familiar, yet new at once, and that was where the dream had ended.

But what was also strange was that he distinctly remembered falling asleep on the cold floor of the common room.

He pushed his plate away with a frown, and groaned quietly before putting his head on the table. It was just a dream- he told himself- there was no way that it could have possibly happened in real life. But, he had felt it, it had seemed so real, it was more a memory than a dream. Plus he ended up in his bed after falling asleep somewhere else. Yes, but there's always sleepwalking, he thought rationally, and he groaned again.

He wanted it to be more than a dream, yet at the same time he didn't. He wanted to feel those lips against his again, to feel his skin touched so lovingly that he forgot about the bruises that had once lain there. He wanted that strange warmth that flowed through him with the touch, he wanted to be loved.

But had it been real there was still the issue of who it was and how they could have gotten into his room when the wards were keyed to himself. He frowned into the table; why was this so complicated to come to grips with? It was only a dream.

But he couldn't help wondering…

All the while the rest of the hall were staring at the one thing they wanted. Harry Potter, the most beautiful, gorgeous, handsome being that they had ever laid eyes upon. Sleek flowing hair, emerald eyes, thin lips, great body, every girl and a few guys were practically drooling. Either that, or eyeing Granger as though she was something they had found on the underneath of their shoes, envious of the interaction between her and the man they wanted.

The hall was filled with excited chatter, but it was on one topic instead of hundreds. Very few people still had enough control to talk about the weather or anything else for that matter, because if they weren't suddenly madly in love with him, they hated him.

Whispers, muttering and the occasional outburst of "I'm going to be the next minister of magic!" bounced in the fresh morning air, making the teachers cringe and the students only raise their volume. But two people didn't notice, two people were so deep in their own thoughts, thoughts (although one didn't know it) about each other, that no amount of distraction could break their musings.

Harry smiled at Hermione as she put a hand on his arm and asked him if he was alright, before continuing to push his food around his plate. He was beginning to regret the night before, because after having his first taste, all he wanted was another.

His eyes once more found themselves homing in on the one thing he wished he could have, hold, the one person he wished all for himself, but couldn't.

Draco. Just his name rolled off the tongue like poison.

He wanted him to know what had happened, he wanted him to know that they had kissed and how he felt toward him. But he didn't want him to know what happened for the hatred and violation Draco would no doubt feel, he was in a hole, and whichever way he turned he just dug himself deeper.

Harry pushed his plate away groaning and put his head on the table. Why is love just so damn difficult?

Up at the staff table, Albus Dumbledore gave his deputy headmistress a knowing look and she rolled her eyes. Both blonde and brunette, light and dark, wore twinned expressions of longing and each had their head on the tabletop.

It was just lucky that Albus was there to help, wasn't it.

Minerva McGonagall didn't like that look….

"I believe it's time," Dumbledore said, rising from his seat and a collective groan rippled through the students and he smiled. "Would Mr Potter and Mr Malfoy please stay behind, the rest of you have a pleasant day-" he looked around with sparkling eyes, "And don't cause too many riots." Some had the dignity to blush while others scarcely registered it as they stared daggers at Malfoy for being able to spend time in their place.

Snape and the staff however suddenly felt the full impact of what was happening hit them in the face like a wet fish, and for the first time since they could remember, they regretted waking up to teach. But then again, when the generation in question were hormone induced loved up or loathing teenagers, all because of one person, that regret was justified.

Another smile crept upon the old man's face as he lowered himself back into his chair, and ignored the scowl that the Transfiguration professor was giving him as he took another sip of his tea.

Harry quickly scribbled the location of his room and the password on a napkin, before handing it over to Hermione, which she received inconspicuously. He let the first smile of the day tug at his lips with the thought of being almost alone with Draco again, and flung his bag over his shoulder as he made his way towards the headmaster.

Draco groaned and didn't want to take his head off the table in fear that he'd leave something behind when he got up, most likely his common sense. Bloody Potter, bloody Dumbledore, why can't they just get swept away by a great big tidal wave of fans and leave him in peace? Finally and reluctantly he sat upright and patted his hair to check whether it was still in place before plastering a scowl on to hide everything else and striding towards the two awaiting his presence.

Once more Draco shuddered, and could swear his feet tingled as they hit the floor, growing more intense the closer he got. However, years of perfecting yourself to rid your face of emotions had taught him to keep his face placid, even when his heart was drumming as though he'd just run a mile. He swallowed hard and creased his eyebrows a little together as he ignored the sudden wave of heat that hit him like flying daggers.

The way he walked, the way he swung his bag over his shoulder and moved his hips, it was all so rhythmic and hypnotic and Harry had trouble dampening his emotions. He wasn't exactly going to deny what he felt, it was true and he wasn't going to hide it from the world, but seeing as the world hadn't asked and Draco would probably run a mile, he forced himself to contain the lust that was creeping from his toes with each step Draco closed the gap. A wave of warmth that tingled his skin, and brushed over him like a thousand tiny spiders made him blink a few times and swallow hard, holding his trembling hands in the pockets of his trousers to keep them from reaching out and grabbing what he wanted.

Dumbledore noted these subtleties that many people would have dismissed, and they assured him that what he was doing would be for the best. When Veela fall in love, that love is very hard to contain, their charms and displays for affection would only grow from now onward. Knowing Harry as the boy he'd walked alongside for 5 years and known for many more he could see him more human than creature, as he felt sure the Ministry would deem anyone else. But then again, with the name of Harry Potter came certain privileges that weren't given to just anyone, and as much as he hated the bias views he had to thank the Minister for once in his life.

But there was also the school, and even though breakfast had only been half an hour long, it was clear it would only get worse if Harry didn't 'sort out his issues' as he liked to put it. Once a Veela falls for someone, their charm kicks up a notch to win them over for good, and normally once it's been completed they have complete control of when and where to use it. Of course there would always be those that fight over him without his charm, but that was understandable seeing the young man he had become.

Dumbledore smiled as he looked down at his two students, the blonde who had a plastered mask as thick as steel to hide his feelings. It was very hard to tell with Draco, he had to admire the self-control that the boy had, he would be a very good politician one day. But it was the little things that he kept an eye out for, like how he leant away from the other boy slightly and wouldn't bring himself to look in his direction.

Harry, on the other hand, was quite the opposite. He obviously had a rather strong will or a very deep respect to be able to control himself to the extent that he was, but he wasn't all that good at it. One of his feet was tapping in agitation and he kept his hands balled in fists in his pockets to keep them to himself. He kept stealing glances at the blonde whether he thought the headmaster was looking or not as he obviously didn't care all that much, and he continuously swallowed, Dumbledore noticing the shine beneath his hairline.

His eyes twinkled as he looked from one to the other, and although his observations only took a few moments, it was enough for the blonde to pick up on, and he took a small step away and cleared his throat.

"You wanted to speak with us, headmaster?" he asked curtly, and Dumbledore noticed how his eyes were trained on his own to keep from the glistening emerald ones burning into his back. He smiled and nodded, but knew that Draco wouldn't stay any longer than needed even though it was clear that Harry wanted nothing more than to stay forever.

"Yes, I wanted to give you this," he said, handing over a small slip of parchment. Draco eyed it suspiciously with one raised eyebrow before he gently took it and read it over.

Harry watched from the side and took in everything he could remember, to try and sustain himself for the lessons that were to bring him away from Draco. The way Draco quirked his eyebrow was positively sexy, and his serious face was so pretty even though it didn't put a patch on his smile. He missed that smile, but held little hope of seeing it again any time soon.

"A pass to the restricted section, sir? What do I need this for?" he said at last and Dumbledore was hit with those stormy eyes again. There were only four pairs of eyes that could be so intelligent and show so much emotion even though their face was devoid, and three of those pairs were in the room that moment. Crystal blue, emerald green and stormy grey, each as complicated and marvellous than the other, and he couldn't help but think how wonderful green and grey were together.

"Yes Draco, I have a proposition for you- oh and Harry," he added at last, and he didn't have to look to see the other handsome young man's eyes light up with sudden enthusiasm, as he stopped tapping his foot and seemed to listen more closely.

"What sort of proposition?" Draco asked carefully, eyeing the professor with obvious mistrust. However, deep down his gut was doing somersaults at the idea of spending even more time with Potter, mashing up his perfectly operational brain. Damned Potter, melting him and ruining everything he'd ever stood for without even realising.

Dumbledore's eyes lit up again, and Draco immediately knew that he wouldn't like what was to come.

"Harry, as you are already aware Shadow Veela have very little information on them-" he began, deciding to start on Harry, as Draco was obviously not wanting any of it. Harry nodded slowly and curiously and stole another glance at Draco before his eyes bore into the headmaster's.

"And I think that this will be the perfect opportunity to give something back to the wizarding world," he concluded, beaming.

Yes, Draco definitely didn't like the sound of this…

"Oh no," he muttered before he could stop himself, and stared at the floor as he felt the bemused look from Harry and the cheerful shine of the headmaster who obviously knew he knew and was just trying to drag the torture out for him. Damned old codger, no one could get away with eating so many damned sweets without it eventually going to their head.

"I would like you both to scour the restricted section for books strictly on Veela, I don't want you searching for anything else. Harry- I want you to record anything strange that happens to you, and Draco- I'd like you to pass on everything you know to Harry so that he can link what he does to the Veela of Europe so that we can try to record some of Harry's powers. I dare say it'd be easier for us to use them if we know what they are."

"Oh no," Draco muttered again, and glared distastefully at the note in his hands, wanting nothing better than to watch it burn. Dumbledore beamed, and Harry seemed too lost in himself to notice Draco's unwillingness to comply. His eyes were shining like a thousand diamonds, wide and brimming with anticipation and hope, but somehow he managed to keep his mouth in a controlled line.

"I don't want you to rush into anything as of yet, take your time and visit whenever you get the chance. No skipping classes though-" he said stealing a look at Harry who seemed too distracted to notice, "-and tell me how you're coming along when you feel ready."

The stupid blighter was planning something- Draco knew it! That horrible glint meant trouble, it wasn't about research. I mean, what had the wizarding world ever given us that we would need to 'put something back'? Absolutely nothing, that's what; this was just a plan of Dumbledore's that would no doubt benefit himself in the end. 'Fuck off' he thought.

"Yes sir," he said, and cursed himself for his lack of wills. He saw Harry nod from the side of his eye before he had to turn his attention back to the old blighter as those beautiful- no just emerald- eyes flashed at him.

Draco, he would be spending time with Draco, in the restricted section- restricted! He swallowed hard and mentally shook his head, no. If Draco didn't want anything, then he would have to keep himself to himself, watch and suffer as he looked upon Draco out of their dormitory as well as within and grin and bear it.

He stole a glance, that white blonde hair, those stormy eyes, his creamy skin. His walk, his talk, his everything - the pillar of perfection. He swallowed again, let out a breath that he didn't know he had been holding as he felt Draco walk away, and turned to the headmaster. His eyes were going off like fireworks, but he shook his head and cast the look aside as he followed slowly after to make his way to his first lesson- alone.

Dumbledore smiled to himself as he saw them walk away and shook his head playfully. If it weren't for him the school would be in ruins by the end of the month, because at the rate this was headed Harry would be crying out for Draco for a long time to come. Draco wasn't like his father, but having grown up on principle his entire life, he may just need a gentle nudge in the right direction. He chuckled and headed toward his office, young people, he mused, were so fun at times.

………………………………………………………………………………………….

Woa… more reviews! Bet you didn't know that was coming now, did'ya!

Felix-the-bandit – ahh, my fans! **Puts hand on forehead dramatically** right… I'm glad I made your day, two chapters in a row, lucky you! Yeh, I try to describe what I see to the best of my ability, I have a rather over active imagination at times, but that's never a bad thing. Yeh, I don't like the term 'mate' it sounds… odd… so I tried something a little more 'flowy' I think is the word I would use.

Caelistes – wow, how cruel and heartless! Yes, I like Draco not being in control of the situation, it's so much fun! Harry might snap, you never know, but I think Draco's bending under the pressure.

Makalani Astral – grr, I can't spell barely! Christ, and I'm supposed to be in top English! Deary me… oh well, I'll try and sort it, give me a slap if I do it again.

Meowfairy – ahh, all I can say is that love works in mysterious ways hun, you just have to go with the flow!

kt – you know, I think you're one of the most flattering people I've had the pleasure of reading a review from. Seriously, you got me on a temporary high or something. Anyway, I'm glad you're re-reading the story, sorry you've gotta keep reading the same things again while I update, but I hope this chapter was alright enough to read again too.

WhiteDragonPriestezz – yeh, well he's got closer to Hermionie, but as I've said before he's not too good with Ron. Ron kinda got sick of being the underdog in a sense, and although he doesn't hate Harry he told him that he couldn't be friends with him anymore… so that's basically where they stand now.

CompleteGeek – you wouldn't guess what! I tried booking a star wars ticket on the internet and it wouldn't work, so I called up and waited on hold for three minutes listening to a track that was jumping really badly and repeating the same three seconds over and over again just to say that all the operators were busy! Gar! Annnnyway… glad you like the imagery, as I have already said my imagination is rather extensive.

soulHunterofdeaTh – yeh, I have to agree with you that the slashy thing really isn't normally my scene, sometimes it gets a little too descriptive… that's why I tried this, I really like the cute slash and I really hate you know, those 'perfect girl' parings that I see the whole bloody time. Glad I got you converted, I can assure you that there will probably be more slash that fits into your criteria, so keep reading!

stargirl2004 – wow, **wipes teary eye** drooling, how flattering, lol. Yes I can just picture it now, anyway, I'm glad you liked it that much.

triola – sadly I don't think I can come up with any words stronger than love, otherwise I feel sure I would have used them by now. But I get your gist, and you had me grinning with your flattery!

blink – thank you, before your graciousness in allowing me to continue I did, hope it was alright, yes I know I'm terrible for STILL not writing about lessons.

And not forgetting the wonderful words of HecateDeMort, Meris, fudgebaby, jadestonedreams, dragondaughter, Alea and mars explorer!

You know the rules, i think i'll humour myself by seeing how many of you remember...


	6. That i love you

The restricted section definitely held the aura of darkness and foreboding, and Draco felt unease as he passed through the rows of books in search for something he felt sure he'd find perfectly well in the main library. Even though the golden sun was shining through the high windows, it didn't seem to reach the floor, and the tall bookshelves cast menacing shadows over him as he passed between them. The air was heavy with dust, floating in the light and resting on the spines of heavy tombs and tabletops, and he couldn't help but feel the thickness of the air as he breathed in and out.

He ran a finger along the spine of a book that he felt sure wouldn't start screaming at him (he'd made that mistake before) and looked at the dust covering him with distaste. No wonder nobody ever came in here, it was filthy, and most people would suffocate within minutes. If it weren't for his keen eyesight he felt sure that he wouldn't have been able to read the titles or even the library index, and even though he'd been there for over an hour the only thing he'd found was one rather old and thick book on magical creature studies.

He had gone to the headmaster only that morning, on Saturday none the less, and Dumbledore had conveniently suggested that they go and look through some books in his spare time. His words were along the lines of 'as you aren't doing anything' which was a complete lie as he had 3 essays to complete for the following Monday, and not forgetting trying to cling onto the last shreds of his social life.

Apparently that didn't count, and now he was stuck peering in the near darkness for a book he wasn't even sure was there.

Of course it didn't do any better when your help is far more interested in you than helping, as Potter currently was. He sighed again, it seemed to be becoming a bit of a habit with him now, showing his weaknesses, and letting that well perfected mask slip at times. What could have caused this- change? He was fine after his father was sent to prison, okay a little angry at Potter for sending him there, but that was understandable, his father may be a prick but he still held the Malfoys together. Hence his mother leaving, but he'd gotten over that, and had even received a postcard a few weeks ago. No, it was after he'd been to the school, after a certain brunette had come through those huge oak doors in the bloodied arms of another man. It was only after he'd talked to himself at his bedside and only after he'd had him watch him for days.

Why the hell was this happening to him? What the hell had he ever done? I mean, he was a bitch but that can't justify- _this_!

He picked up another book absently and slipped it into his arms without bothering to double check if there was even a title. This was getting extremely tedious, he'd been roaming about in the dark for ages and even his good eyesight was faltering. By now many people would have had to sit down and rested their eyes in the light, but being ¼ magical creature helped sometimes.

Harry stared at the bookshelf before him, trying to work his eyes endlessly over the grey dust and dull spines to keep his eyes occupied. He'd been in the library for hours and it was absolute torture, how would you feel when the one thing you want more than anything in the world stands around and teases you when you can do absolutely nothing about it? That's what Draco was doing, he didn't notice it of course, but the way he moved his hips or bent down on one knee to check the bottom shelf was taunting him. The way his face was shadowed in the darkness, the way his hair always seemed to shine, the way those eyes seemed at home in a book, it was all too much.

"Urg! I hate books!" Draco cried at last, breaking the heavy silence as he kicked at one of the bookshelves angrily. Harry knew that it was a lie, but he wasn't going to protest. Although he loved to be around him, even for the smallest amount of time, the line had been drawn for what was healthy for his sanity and what was not. Right now, it was not. All he needed was to read and maybe have a fly, something to get his mind away.

Without another word Draco picked up the two he'd found and began making his way through the darkness and shadows of the shelves toward one of the small tables that littered the library for anyone who ever came in there, which really wasn't many. Harry followed slowly behind, and tried to control those emerald eyes that found themselves locked onto Draco again.

He had the longest strides he had ever seen, they made him seem taller and more powerful, although Harry would never say that Draco wasn't anyway. When standing Draco only came up to about Harry's eyes, but the way he walked, he seemed like a giant, and Harry a mouse. He envied his movements, the way he could rule the world and stop all talk in the room with just a look. The way he tossed his hair when he was angry, the way that one piece fell before his piercing eyes and always ruined the glare he was giving, making Harry smile as Draco crossed his eyes to glare at it instead.

The way Draco rolled his hips with each time a foot touched the floor, it made Harry just want to grab them and turn him around, but he couldn't. He couldn't do anything! The only chance of being around Draco was to be quiet, keep his head down, because if Draco knew, then there was a chance that he'd be too freaked to go anywhere near him ever again. In a way he wished that he loved him like everyone else, but then again, it was Draco he loved, not another fan. That's the fun in it; he thought wryly as a small smile tugged at the edge of his lip, yes, he'd just have to make it interesting.

Draco slipped onto a dusty chair and for once didn't care whether his robes got filthy, he was tired, he was mind numbingly bored, and that annoying flutter in his stomach had been bugging him for hours. Something seemed like it was missing, and for the few moments he sat alone in the darkness, one small lamp lighting the side of his face, and it was only when the thing had returned when he realised what it was. As Harr-Potter walked into the room, that feeling diminished and his stomach did another back flip just to aggravate him further. He glared at it before slamming the heaviest book he had down on the table to show his annoyance, and sneezed.

Gar! Everything just had to bloody go wrong didn't it!

Harry smirked, that sneeze had definitely not been very masculine, it was small and sweet and he had trouble clearing his face as he slipped down opposite. It was little things like this about Draco that made him seem a little more human, instead of the angel that he was to the public. He smiled behind his own book to hide it from the blonde who was no doubt glaring, but really it was those things that he loved. He did, he loved that sneeze, he loved that little annoying bit of hair, he loved his faults as much as he loved the beauty and the face, the way he did everything. But the little things, they made him see that there was more hope in getting the angel than he had thought.

And he had a plan… an idea that would tell him if Draco was more willing than he made out to be, and in turn maybe reveal something to him. If Draco remembered that night in their dormitories, when his eyes had fluttered open momentarily, then he could show him and see if Draco reacted, if not, it wouldn't do any harm, would it? It was a chance he was willing to take, these feelings were insane and if he didn't do something soon, he'd explode.  
_  
Introduction _

_written by Fiddelous Dodge in the late 1700's_-

Snore…. This was the most boring thing he'd ever had the displeasure of doing. Draco put his book flat down on the table and brought the light a little closer as he tried to peer at the index for any references he could copy down. The scanned the entire page twice and found nothing, just his luck it would seem, and he growled low in his throat as he glared at the browning page. However, his growl was cut off abruptly only to be replaced by silence and the flop of his stomach doing forward rolls due to the pressure suddenly put on the side of his leg. He hadn't realised he'd stopped breathing until his lungs began to protest and his muscles burned, and he let out a slow, long breath as he tried to clear his mind and skin of the tingling that had enveloped him.

Slowly and discreetly, he leaned a little further back into his chair and glanced under the table to see what he had thought. His knee had suddenly become a convenience for that damned Veela to lean his leg against, and he had to shake his head as he became a little light headed. He should have pushed it away, he should have kicked it from him, sworn at the menace and walked from the library, but he suddenly couldn't think of anything he'd want to do less. His stomach fluttered uncomfortably and his heart began beating faster, that tingling tickling his skin and making him shudder, and that pull that just made him want to… no!

'What are you doing?' he scolded himself as he glared intently at the same line as he read it over and over again. 'This bastard is stealing your body heat! He'd taking advantage!' the small part of him that seemed to be left insisted but he remained glaring at the page. 'But he's so warm…' the other, greater, half of him whined, and he shuddered as a tingle crept up his spine.

What the hell should he do? It was only a bloody touch but already it was sending him into blind panic! What in the name of Merlin was happening? I mean, come on! This was just bloody cruel!

"Fucking Veela," he muttered under his breath, and from the other side of the table Harry smirked from behind his book.

That was just the reaction he'd been hoping for, it had been a gamble, but his insides were glowing from gold as he hit the jackpot. Draco hadn't pushed him away! He'd taken the risk and now he was tingling all over as his heat entwined with Draco's, as their skin was only held apart by two thin layers of fabric. He could feel the shape of Draco's leg; he could feel the firm muscle of his shins, the bone of his kneecap. His eyes fluttered shut as he smiled into the pages of his book, his heart was slowly picking up a pace as the heat from Draco's body hit him in waves and he wanted nothing better than to put the book down. He wanted to look into those murky pools, he wanted to gaze upon that creamy porcelain, watch that liquid gold reflect the small lamp, as he knew it was.

_Written by Fiddelous Dodge in the late 1700's_-

_written by Fiddelous Dodge in the late 1700's_-

_written by Fiddelous Dodge in the late 1700's_-

_written by Fiddelous Dodge in the late 1700's_-

He couldn't stop his eyes from skirting over the same line over and over again as his brain forced him to try again. But all he could concentrate on was that touch, the warmth, the muscle, the tone, and the skin. He shuddered again, damn bloody fucking Potter, why couldn't that damn Veela stop putting out that damned charm!

Little did he know, that he was completely immune…

Harry let a wry smile tug at his mouth as he silently slipped off his shoes and imagined what Draco's reaction was. His leg was tense, but it was still there, and that was the point of the game.

Potter's leg… it was wonderful… it was slightly taller than his own, and in some desperation that he had no control over, he shifted his weight a little so that his shin would skirt against his and he could feel a little more. It was so… firm, toned- warm. He shuddered again- no! Bad Draco, no! This was just a damned trick, a damned bloody trick of Potter's to get the second best looking guy in school. It was just his shallow self trying to keep up appearances for the damned newspapers! Just a damned-ahhh…

Draco gasped silently as he stared harder at his book with wide eyes and tried to control the sudden churning his stomach was deciding to pull. P-P-Potter's leg had just wrapped around his own! H-He was doing a Vulcan mind mould again and he couldn't move! Damnation!

Harry slipped his foot around Draco's shin, shuddering and grinning from the other side of his book. This was the sort of touch he'd been waiting for, a touch while Draco was actually conscious, a touch that Draco knew about and he could reciprocate. His leg was so wonderful he wondered what the rest of him could be like, it was warm and muscular and even though he wasn't touching the skin he shut his eyes in bliss.

_Written by Fiddelous Dodge in the late 1700's_-

_written by Fiddelous Dodge in the late 1700's_-

_written by Fiddelous Dodge in the late 1700's_-

Gah! It wasn't working, it was just too much! Draco wanted to run away, he wanted to leave and hide himself somewhere small and dark where no one could ever find him and clear his head. But at the same time all he wanted to do was lean over and- NO! He was weak! He was so damned weak he was buckling just because –ahahah! H-His leg… was being…r-rubbed!

Draco's eyes widened as he stared in shock at his book, now only a blur of browns and black and his mind raced and his stomach flipped again. His leg was in a bit of a venerable position at that moment, and a little… trapped. One of Potter's legs had found its way between his own to hook his foot around his shin and rub it slowly with the mere rotation of his ankle and somehow his trousers were slowly riding up. B-B-Bloody Potter! His stomach did another belly flop and his throat let out a small strangled noise at the back that he couldn't hold back in time, and knew too late that Potter had heard it too. Meep! He inwardly cried, as the foot had found its way underneath his knee in that rather sensitive patch near his tendons.

AAAAAAAAH! What in the name of Merlin was happening! He was letting this bloody happen! He was letting this- manwhore! Take advantage! He was fucking letting him! His throat let out another small whine as somehow his other leg got involved and he realised that he couldn't even read the whole line any more. He was a Malfoy! He shouldn't let this bloody happen, he was the one supposed to be in control! He was the one that made people melt at the knees, not the one to be fondled under the bloody table!

RIGHT, THAT'S IT! NOBODY FOOLS WITH A MALFOY!

With a loud screech he forcefully pushed back his chair and ripped his legs out of the death grip. Without an uttered word he bent down and ripped a piece of parchment and his quill from the small leather bag by his chair and leant over the table. He pushed down the book that Potter was holding up, and slammed both the book and his hands against the table before slamming the parchment and quill on the open page all the while glaring.

"Write!" he demanded and for the first time in weeks he forced the courage to look into those eyes. Harry- Potter was hot, but Potter had never dealt with a Malfoy! Harry looked back at him with those emerald green eyes, clouded with lust as his legs continued to tingle as his soul continued to warm him, but he managed to raise an eyebrow that outdid the flush on his cheeks.

"Dumbledore said you had to write what was happening so write! I'm going to find a book!" he finished and before Harry could protest, he strode from the table and disappeared into the darkness.

Harry leant back into his seat and sighed, a dreamy smile gracing his face as he stared up to see the golden light above his head. Draco took it all the way to the knee, he'd gotten under Draco's trousers, he'd run his toes over that soft skin and skirted over those firm muscles, he'd felt Draco shudder as he ran along his tendons, and he'd spoken to him at the end. Not only that- but he'd finally gotten to look into those beautiful stormy eyes, and more to the point those beautiful, confused, wanting, lusty eyes that had given him all of the answers he had needed.

Sod reading, he thought happily, this is bliss. And slowly he leant over and switched off the small oil lamp before closing his eyes and feeling the tingling like an egg being cracked on his head.

Draco strode down five aisles before he finally came to a rest and fell to the floor to stare wide-eyed and out of focus into the darkness. Bloody Potter! What a fucking bitch! He'd been molested! He'd been violated! A Malfoy!

But what was even more terribly disturbingly, horribly gut wrenchingly bad, was that he'd finally realised that he _liked _it, no- understatement. Potter, an idiot, a Gryffindor, Mr Perfect, Dumbledore's golden-boy, the thing his family had stood against for as long as time itself, and here he was, sitting in the darkness remembering a simple touch. If this wasn't some sort of spell, or hypnosis, or Veela charm, he may just have to kill himself.

Draco fell onto his back and sighed into the darkness, this wasn't happening- it was all a horrible dream. He sighed into his hands and shut his eyes to try and block everything out, but he just couldn't. That touch wouldn't be the last, he could feel it, and he welcomed it. The way that Potter seemed to know his weaknesses, know that he was extra sensitive, the way he moved his toes, the way he stroked and ran the right places. He shuddered again, and this was just his bleeding leg!

I mean- what would the papers say? They were probably going to have a field day alone when they find out he's not actually human, let alone gay! And him, Malfoy heir, Voldemort would probably want to use it to his advantage too. Being gay, or even being Veela weren't big deals in the wizarding world, but when you're Wonder Child, it's a different matter all together. Well- at least it would detour some of those stupid obsessive love struck girls, Merlin they were annoying. WHAT? He wasn't getting with Pothead! No way, no how! But its one thing to think it, but when his green eyes are all you think about and burn into the darkness when you try and fall asleep, it's a little harder.

He sighed and brushed himself off as he rose from the floor and continued to look for another book, but his mind was on one thing only. Those eyes, that smile, that stupid hair he suddenly had the urge to tug down, those rosy cheeks, those wandering feet. The way he walked, the way he flew, the way he grinned and looked at him with longing eyes from across the room. It'd better be that damned charm, _or else_.

…

Not that long after Draco had calmed himself down and had found a few more books, he came back to their table with his arms full and a small limp from when he'd kicked another bookshelf. Only to be met with darkness. The lamp had been extinguished and their table was empty, save the books and paper he'd left just as it was before. He scowled. Damned Potter! Distracting him, and then fucking off just to leave him to clean up! So that'd been it all along! He was taking advantage to rest his lazy pampered arse while he left Draco to clean up after him!

"Ungrateful slob," he muttered dryly as he placed the books on the table, ignoring the tingling that brushed his arms the closer he got. He slipped back into his seat and put his head in his hands, he didn't even know where half of these books came from let alone how he was going to carry them all or find his own way out.

Slowly Draco sank back into his seat, he was never going to be played again, ever! Potter was obviously still as much of an idiot as he had ever remembered him, and that wasn't going to change. However, he couldn't help but feel disappointed, and he still felt the tingling in his legs, the fluttering in his stomach, that endless feeling of light-headedness he got whenever he was around him.

Oh well, he thought as he sighed, I'll see better days. He ran a hand through his hair as he reached out to grab the extinguished lamp from the table and placed it in front of him, digging into the pocket of his nicely fitting trousers to pull out his wand. He fingered it for a few moments at he stared at the lamp, the darkness was strangely inviting, he could hide in it and think, but what good would darkness do when you have to lug books around? He let himself scowl as he muttered the incantation, and a small yellow flame erupted from the tip of his wand and caught alight on the wick, bathing him in an orange glow. Looking up now he could see that it was actually getting dark, the beams of light no longer golden but a misty blue- the colour of his eyes.

He frowned and looked back down, but seconds later felt his insides ice over. Quickly he jumped from his chair, sending it crashing to the floor, and held his wand out before him at the shadowed figure that sat opposite the very seat he'd been sitting in. the very same shadow that was familiar yet new, the shadow the he had only thought of as a dream. The shadow with those powerful lips, that touch that made him want to melt, the way it touched him with such softness and care that he felt the love he'd missed well up inside of him.

"You," he breathed, the hiss he'd intended losing its force as his other had strayed to his lips and he backed up against the nearest bookshelf.

"Me," the shadow agreed, nodding his head, and his insides iced for a different reason. His heart picked up and the hand around his wand suddenly became clammy as he dropped his other hand and stared at the shadow, half in shock, half in rage. That voice- that new yet familiar voice- that was Harry! Oh great, _now _he's switched to first name basis.

"I- I wanted to tell you- oh god I wanted to," the shadow began as he raised from his seat and Draco tried to back up a little further but already had gone as far as he could go. His heart was drumming in his chest and once more he had to shudder for that tingling that brushed his skin.

"Tell me what!" he tried to shout, but his volume only rose a little as his rage depleted to be left with the betrayal of being taken advantage of truly. The scowl on his face faltering with each step the shadow came closer, but he kept his wand trained.

Harry frowned, but Draco couldn't see it against his black outline, why had this gone so wrong? He thought he'd gotten through to him- thought he'd made his feelings clearer with his actions, but it was obvious that the violation he had done was simply too much. He wanted to beg for his forgiveness- but he knew he wouldn't accept it- he wanted to take him in his arms- but he knew he'd pull away. So he stopped merely three feet from Draco, letting the other boy's wand press against his chest as he submitted, and slowly he felt himself returning to normal.

Draco would have gasped had he not been shrouded in so many feelings that he was becoming confused, but the sight before his eyes really did weaken his will. As he melted back from the darkness he could see that his green eyes had lost their sparkle, and they were looking at him pleadingly as he pressed himself against his wand as though asking him to use it. His perfect face was beautiful against the orange glow, his ebony hair glowed in the darkness as he towered before him in all of his glory.

"That I love you, Draco," Harry whispered.

Before the words could sink in, Draco forced himself to turn away, and Harry watched in silence as the man he loved disappeared into the darkness, maybe for the last time.

…………………………………………………………………………………………….

I'm cruel, I know! If I were a reader I'd cry, but luckily I'm in control of this sort of thing so I get to do it to other people! Hahaha!

Don't yell at me too much -

A little dickey bird told me that the site was all screwy last time, so thanks to all you who tried and tried until you got a review up, it really means a lot to me even though I treat you mean with all these endings!

And now…. You would never guess… I'm going to reply to your reviews!

Makalani Astral – yeh, damned computers always screwing about with me, its either that or typos!

Dark Angel's Blue Fire – yay! Another addict! I'm going to be made illegal soon!

Alea – ah, yes… I can never get too tired of the love you send my way, lol. Thanks for hanging in there until the site got better!

Youko Gingitsune – yeh, I tried really really hard to make them similar to the books but give them some new traits that I happen to be all right at writing! Glad you like the combo, keep reading!

jadestonedreams – ah yes, he got him alone thanks to sneaky Dumbles, but I doubt either of them expected that did they!

Felix-the-bandit – blinded by love, **sigh**, yeh, I love them being oblivious, it's so fun! Hope this one was satisfactory too…

CrAzYLoOn – I know! It's one thing Draco and Harry but Draco getting along with Hermione! Scandalous! You'll just have to keep reading to see how it goes thought, won't you!

triola – awww! I loved loved loved loved loved your review right back! I'm sooo glad you like this so much! Hope this chapter didn't ruin the fluff for you, but I can safely say that Harry don't give up that easily! I'm a sucker for compliments about my writing, and you just hit the jackpot, I'm glad I make you go all warm and fluffy, I make me too! Woo! Go you and your review!

kt – YAY! Another review that made me all fluttery! Thank you thank you thank you! Don't rip anything up next time you can't review though, I don't want you injuring yourself, lol! Then you wouldn't be able to type, would you, and not being able to type means not able to review and in your words 'THIS STORY NEEDS REVIEWS!'

firefairy42- ha-ha! Just fly the union jack dhal! The English flag is so associated with football now It's lost its spark, but thanks for waving something none the less! YOU WANT MEE TO GIVE TIPS? MEE? Wow… I mean… what an honour! I'd love to! Anything you want help with I'll be right there at your feet with huge puppy-dog eyes! Ha-ha, yeh, just e-mail me or something about it, or review about it, I dunno… you decide!

Caelistes – don't burst a fuse love, you're as magic as they come! Ah, but will Dray really be the submissive, that is the question… you saw how Harry leant against his wand, he was giving himself! Hah! That should get you thinking shouldn't it… just read on and don't yell at me too much for the rather amusingly cruel ending…

midnightprowler – you know, unwillingly you and others are giving me really good ideas here. You're just going to have to read on… yeh, I liked the shadow Veela thing too, generally why I used it, lol… read on!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAND for the little people! Or big people, I dunno… tell me if your big or small and I'll mention it! Haha! I'm ranting… anyway, a big hug and thanks to bunk64, HecateDeMort (the reviewer of few words), Earthwytch, xmenstoryguy, LiLy MaLfOy13, Moongypsy04 and Beth5572 READ ON! WOO!


	7. love can be a bugger, can't it?

Right, as I have been advised about warnings, I think it is appropriate to write one.

CAUTION: this chapter is so fluffy that readers may become consumed. It is so fluffy, that the author wishes to press that it's "so fluffy it's **arg! I'm drowning! Help me! There's fluff in my mouth and I can't see! -CHOKE -help me! I'm drowning in fluff!** - That fluffy."

The author also wishes to press that any strange reader disappearances have nothing to do with her, and she takes no responsibility to the actions of this chapter…

buckle your seatbelts…

**  
Chapter 7 - Love can be a bugger, can't it?**

Draco sat in the soft darkness, absently running a delicate creamy finger along the velvet arm of his chair as he stared off focused into the orange flames that danced across his face. His grey eyes were misted over in deep thought, and his eyebrows were folded into a delicate thoughtful frown with rosy lips as set as steel. His face was hot, slowly burning from the closeness of the fire- but he hadn't even noticed, his fingers fiddling with the golden lining of the cushion.

Surrounding him was darkness- the glow of the fire creeping like fingers into the shadow only to fade away the further they got. There appeared to be no walls- only darkness, but Draco knew that the walls were there. Behind him was one lone, grand wooden door standing out in the black enveloping everything untouched by the fire, the exit and entrance to his sanctuary that only he knew of. Beneath his feet was a rich, thick rug, but it seemed worn with years of use even though he felt sure that it was only an illusion.

The darkness that seemed to never end- the lightless fingers that reached out to touch everything and drag it into shadow- it was the darkness that Draco loved. It was warm, soft darkness, like the supple feel of the curtains blocking out the harshness outside- the irony of life. Forever hiding- and forever living to see another day, a survivor, but he wished that he weren't.

His legs- those very same legs that had been entangled with those toned, warm limbs of the one who had forced him to retreat again, were hanging limply off the arm of the rich red chair he was perched on. He was always perched- he never truly sat- never truly allowed himself to feel comfortable in the knowledge that at any moment he'd have to up and leave again. His back propped up against the cushion he absently fingered, running the tassel through his fingers without the knowledge that he was doing it and somehow this sturdy chair fit him perfectly.

He stared into his surroundings, never noticing that his eyes didn't veer from the same spot he'd been staring at for hours. The shadows- they only played to remind him of the reason he was there, but instead he couldn't seem to draw those stormy eyes from them. To him the darkness was his only strength in life- the darkness that Harry- no Potter, he scolded, stood against, yet was all the same. His silhouette- that nearly solid wispy form that had flickered in his dream- those powerful lips that he'd thought a distant thought now proved reality. Those emerald eyes that managed to merge without being seen even though they shone out like beacons whenever he closed his eyes, his dark hair, his dark past.

Draco loved the darkness, yet his feelings for this new kind were vague. He'd been used to the harsh, cold dark- and the warm, soft dark. Never had he experienced the dark that could shine like the sun and send warmth to pulsate thought him, the darkness that brushed over him like invisible wandering hands. The darkness whose lips had brushed his own, the darkness that had smirked as its toes skirted up his trouser leg- the darkness everyone wanted but couldn't touch- the darkness everyone knew, loved or hated, yet never had a choice.

The darkness that made his stomach flop, the darkness that made his throat whine, the darkness that touched him so softly- yet pounded him with the words he had never understood.

_I love you…_ he remembered. What was love? Was it want, or lust- craving, passion, or desire? Was it true feeling- or was love just an illusion and a lie made to make life bearable? His eyebrows creased together and his lip slid down into a frown, he wouldn't know, would he? How could people be so damned sure about love? Wasn't it special, complex? How did you tell, who did you find along the way?

Draco had never known love- and never thought those words would be directed at him for as long as he lived. Yet already they had, they'd been spoken from those lips he'd kissed, that face he'd had trouble forgetting. These strange feelings- was it love? Was it lust? Was it him being a teenager, or Potter being a Veela?

He sighed and let the darkness swallow the sound hungrily, and his brows relaxed as his golden hair fell into one eye. Why was this so damn difficult? He was the one in control- the one to make people melt, the one to love you and leave you. This was never supposed to happen! He was supposed to be the playboy- the self assured one who always drifted the right way and attached to nothing. He was the one who had spent 5 years hating someone, and now just couldn't muster the strength to do it any more.

He was still unsure why he'd run; it was his instinctive reaction it seemed. He'd been hurt, his heart had ached and his eyes had shown the betrayal he felt, but yet at the same time he didn't know why he should have been betrayed at all. Potter and him, they weren't together, they'd done nothing- hated each other for so long and now had been forced together. The violation shouldn't have been a big deal- and really he knew that it wasn't. But how he felt to being taken advantage of while he slept didn't put a patch on the mental turmoil continuing from those words… those cursed words!

He hated those words…

"Fucking life," he muttered for the hundredth time since he'd arrived, and the darkness swallowed it up to leave silence once more- the dancing and crackling of the fire the only life in the room. Once more his legs tingled and he shuddered, and once more he scowled and kicked at the air from his position on the chair.

The room he was in- the darkness with a single chair and fire, was perfect. Isolated, secluded, silent- and all the while he hadn't even given a second thought to how he'd got there. After those words had hit him like an unforgivable- he'd ran until his muscles screamed and his lungs burned with every breath he took. He had been so confused- he would not admit to it, but maybe even frightened by the implications- that he'd let his legs carry him. The moment he had noticed the door- that mysterious door that now stood out amongst the shadow like a reminder that he should leave into the light again, and had ran though without a second glance.

Draco had found the room of requirement, but he wouldn't have cared had you told him…

…

_I assure you, Draco has not left the walls of the castle. He is still inside, he is safe and he will most likely stay that way until he decides to show himself. The castle will not let me know his location, but she assures me that he is in no danger. Lessons can go on without him if need be, but I feel that it would be best just to leave him. It was a brave thing you did Harry- but as natural as it feels for you, Draco needs time to come to terms with it. Please Harry, sleep, eat, rest, take your mind off it. He's fine and he'll stay fine as long as he remains wherever he is, so you had need not worry for his safety. Give it time my boy- give it time. _

And that, had been three days ago. Three long, agonising days of heart wrenching loneliness that had seemed to drag on like years.

Harry registered Hermione's hand brush through his hair as she comforted him, her soft touch warming his skin but not touching his icy core. Harry's silky mane was spread over Hermione's legs as she tried to ease the pain she saw in her friend's face, but as they had done for days, it seemed to do little help. His long, sturdy frame lay across the sofa that they sat on, his knees bent as they hung over the arm. One arm lay limply over his barely moving chest- seeming that his heart had died in the past few days, and the other Hermione grasped softly as she rotated her thumb on his palm and she brushed her hand along his forehead.

She hated to see him like this- it was tearing her up inside.

"You really do love him, don't you?" she asked softly, and felt her heart clench as her friends eyebrows rose and a frown tugged at the edge of his lips before he nodded slowly into her lap.

"Oh god, I do Hermionie," he whispered, and his eyelashes fluttered as he held back the tear trapped beneath his closed lid. Those emerald orbs- now clouded and dull, opened as she gently ran her finger beneath his eye and caught the tear before it fell, before they closed again.

"What's it like?" she asked softly after a few moments. Asking him to speak about his love for Draco wouldn't be fair, but asking generally might just help. Hermionie hated the depression, but her logical mind told her that the love must be beautiful to feel so low without it. Harry looked like he was going through drawbacks from a drug, his eyes were puffy and dull, his lips seemed never to smile, that beautiful face now beautiful for the pale completion and troubled look.

It was still strange for her to see her friend liking who he did. Malfoy- the prick who had called her a mudblood and made her run crying to the hospital wing on numerous occasions, but even she could tell that Draco had changed. He hadn't said a word to her all year, he barley ever let his snide remarks slip- and that arrogant smirk she hated so much hadn't reared its ugly head the whole time. He looked almost as beautiful as Harry did in a way, he looked lost- and it was that look that made her sure the feelings were mutual between the two- whether Draco was stubborn enough to admit it or not.

But as she looked down, she felt her eyes widen in surprise to see her friend breaking into a small, but true smile. "Love?" he asked. His eyes opened again, and even though they looked up at her beneath heavy lids they had a little life back in them, and she couldn't stop the glow that washed over her. She nodded and smiled back as she stroked his hair again and squeezed his hand supportively, and Harry closed his eyes again with a small smile.

"It's the most wonderful feeling in the world," he began, smiling to himself as though seeing something so beautiful that all Hermionie wished was to see it too. "When your close- you feel giddy, your knees go weak. When he speaks- his voice makes you shudder. Whenever you grow close its like your soul explodes with, well you know the tingle of a spell as it reaches your wand?" he asked, cracking open an eye. Hermionie imagined it, the tingling in her fingers as it escaped the tip, and nodded and watched his eyes close again, "and it washes over you and warms you all up inside."

"It's like nothing else ever existed- Voldermort, everything. It's like the universe revolves around them and your just another simple planet in its orbit, watching them as they steer you around and never let you go, keep you safe. It's like- you'd want nothing better than to take them in your arms and never let them go, savour every last breath together. You remember the cologne they wear, and the look on their face as they smile lights you up and makes you go all fuzzy. It's like- you'd want nothing better than to do everything you can, give everything you have- give your life if need be. " She smiled softly and brushed another piece of hair back, her insides were glowing with just his words, and suddenly she wished nothing better than to have those feelings too. But the smile that graced his face, it was like the smiles she had seen when he was with Sirius- but different, it was more sincere, more peaceful, more- right.

"And you feel like you could just watch them for hours and never grow tired." He sighed, and the smile faltered a little as his eyes frowned. "You know he's just- so beautiful… his hair- when you touch it its like sunbeams, they're there but they're not- you know? And those eyes- god those eyes Hermionie. I've been wanting to gaze into those eyes for weeks… they're so stormy, they're so masked its hard to see what he really feels but when you look hard enough- its just overwhelming. They're so full of intelligence, you just can't hide form those eyes- they seem to see everything. They're so sharp, so intense. And his skin- Hermionie it's just like that muggle saying smooth as a babies bottom-" she laughed and he cracked his eyes opened and flashed a small grin before the emeralds shut again and once more he seemed lost in his thoughts.

"He's just so perfect- I don't deserve him- no Hermionie just let me talk," he said before she could object, and she smiled again and brushed his hair back, he knew her far too well. "There's absolutely nothing about him I can see wrong- it's just the very meaning of perfect- you know," he said, smiling and looking up at her again. She nodded just to let him continue- knowing that if she pointed out their past with the Slytherin it would no doubt break the first moment she'd seen her friend smile in days.

"You know-" he said, as he let out a small laugh that flowed from his lips like golden sunshine, warming her insides as his happiness seemed contagious. "You know that little bit of hair that never goes back? I've seen him cross his eyes to glare at it," she laughed along with him, and for the first time since all of the horrors in their lives she felt truly at home with him. "And when we were in the library- he slammed this really big dusty book on the table when he was all moody, and sneezed," she laughed again and he chuckled along, but for Harry it was sheer bliss remembering moments like these, that only after three days seemed so distant.

"It's everything about him- even the things that go wrong- they just make him a little more human. It's like he's made out of crystal and your afraid to touch him, and its these little slips that make him seem a little more in reach." She sobered a little but the smile on her lips just wouldn't leave. She'd give anything to have what he had- and he hoped that they'd all live to see that day. Pushing back those thoughts angrily she just looked back down to see her friends smiling face and felt another wave of happiness envelop her. And that was when she realised, truly realised like a slap in the face, that it was this love for Draco that would bring him back to Harry, that would mean they stay together until the end of time. That thought was wonderful, as it was so unfair that someone with the darkest past, and most treacherous future could have nothing in it for himself. And now he finally did.

As she looked back down again though, she could see that his smile was faltering and once more those crafted eyebrows were folding together and a frown tugging the edge of his lip. "I love him so much," he whispered, "But- I just don't-"

"Don't you dare say what I think you're going to say, Harry James Potter!" Hermionie cut in with a sniff as she worriedly brushed his hair back a little faster. "Don't you dare say that those feelings aren't reciprocated, because it's complete balls!" she scolded, and Harry opened his eyes in surprise, a small smile tugging gently at the side of his mouth.

"Hermionie Granger, did I just hear you swear?" he asked in mock astonishment and she glared at him, holding her head up high.

"And I'll do it again," she said nobly, and he let out a chuckle before her shoulders sunk again and her gaze softened to look at him. "But seriously Harry, I know Draco well enough to tell you that he's as stubborn as a mule." Harry felt the need to object but she sent him a warning glare and he sunk back down into her lap. "And he'll deny these feelings until he's blue in the face. But I've seen him since school- and he hasn't uttered a single curse or started a single fight since the start of the year. There's something different Harry- something's changed, and I feel pretty sure it's thanks to you." And suddenly his insides burst with a new hope, a hope that had been extinguished the moment he saw those golden locks disappear into the darkness.

"Thanks Hermionie," he muttered, and she smiled in return, squeezing his hand and looking at him with her warm, encouraging eyes.

"Don't mention it- oh! Harry!" she cut, eyes suddenly side as she stared at the other side of the room in what he could only distinguish as fear. Before he could think he'd jumped from her lap and had his wand drawn, but felt his arm lower as he saw nothing. But he had no control over the sudden sinking of his heart- as though it had been Draco there, now disappeared, gone. Slowly he turned back around, to see a very sheepish looking Hermionie.

"Uh- I just- it's nearly midnight, we have school tomorrow," she muttered, and once more his lip curled a little at the edge as he pushed down the sadness and desperation that had been surfaced.

"Are you sending me to bed?" he challenged wryly, and folded his arms over his chest. He hadn't expected Hermionie to rise to his challenge, pushing herself off the couch to glare up at him, but all the while making him feel a little small.

"Yes! This is our first NEWT year Harry, and you need all the sleep you need! Bed!" she demanded, and he felt himself cower a little. Sometimes Hermione was just plain scary.

"Yes mum," he muttered as she pushed him over to the other side of the room, but he couldn't help but smile as he felt some of his loss restored in his friendship.

That night, as Harry drifted into an easy sleep for the first time in too long, he dreamt of one thing only. Those murky eyes, that golden hair, his smirk, his strides, the sneeze, his legs, his everything.

In a darkened, hidden room on the other side of the school, on a grand velvet chair, the sleeping figure smiled in his sleep. His dreams veered to those emerald eyes, that silky hair, those longing looks, his legs, his everything.

Love can be a bugger, can't it?

…………………………………………………………………………………………………..

PHEW! Now if that isn't going to drain me I don't know what is… okay- so it's not physical fluff, but when you managed to spend two pages writing about love- it hops, skips and jumps right over that line!

I'm actually impressed that you all managed to remember the rules that time! I didn't even need to _mention_ it! Well done! -**Pins small golden star on reviewers jumper**- good little reviewer!

You'd better appreciate my quick update guys!

okay, replies…

firefairy42 – I'm sorry! I tried but I'm really not very good at handing out tips and such. But as I said, DETAIL! Elaborate on absolutely everything and you can't go wrong. Like when Harry's being beaten up- you have to describe every punch, and metaphors and similes are really good for description.

Leïlia – ah, yes… I shall have mercy-just this once. But this chapter was pretty uneventful, so I hope you forgive me!

stargirl2004 – don't die! –Looks around in fear before slowly hinting to caution- and just so you know, for you dhal, the more exclamation points the better!

WhiteDragonPriestezz – yes, you guessed right- a few more chapters until the inevitable! I'm glad you liked the cliffy, the rest of these ungrateful readers **cough** Caelistes **cough** didn't seem to like them :P

Kilikapele – yeh! That line made me larf! Go me… no… I'm not being big headed….

Felix-the-bandit – yaaaay! I'm a genius! Woooo!

Caelistes – you know, you have some pretty bad mood swings there love, you should get that seen too before you blow something- maybe half of your skull! Lol! I'm glad that this story has that affect on you, just a few more chapters of nail biting drawing-out-the-inevitable until they get together!

nljfs – okay… right… Harry wasn't at the sorting, cos, you know- I mentioned that he'd have to stay in the hospital wing for three days after he woke up- it was the 31st when he woke and school starts on the 1st! glad I could help!

bunk64 – ah, yes, I may be a tease but the most brilliant people are complete lunatics. That's why you can't blame me!

Earthwytch – I know! I absolutely adored writing the footsie bit! It was sooo fun! It was a completely spur of the moment thought and suddenly- BOOM- it was on the page! Magic!

triola – oh my god… this review… this bloody review had me larfing for ages! LADIES AND GENTS- I THINK I'VE HAD THE ULTIMATE REVIEW HERE! SOMEBODY GOT A CAMERA- ANYBODY? I think you should be a circus ringleader or something, you're great. I loved your warning- I put it on my bio! Haha! I was like- is it arrogant and annoying if I flaunt my success- NAA!

And of course the little-big-huge-tiny people who took a precious moment of their lives to review the last chapter! Thanks to sanzo, nljfs, HecateDeMort (the reviewer of –OMG! 2 words!), fudgebaby, CompleteGeek, Alea, Beth5572 and Makalani Astral.

You know, I feel like I've known you all for years!

**cough** REVIEW **cough** I mean- damn! I did it again, didn't I…? oh well!


	8. the angel that walked without wings

Warning! For those of you who have grown to love adorable, confused Draco LOOK AWAY NOW! THIS CHAPTER IS NOT FOR YOU!

Chapter involves violence and Harry beating, please do not hurt me!

Hold on tight!

**Chapter one - the angel that walked without wings**

It was now the eighth day of Draco's disappearance, and even though the headmaster had assured him countless times that he was still in the castle- and more importantly still safe, it didn't ease the longing in his hollow chest cavity. For days he'd barely eaten- very rarely slept, his attention had wandered in class, and he'd had more fan mail than ever. Although the smell, the image of him was still deeply imbedded in his mind, he couldn't help but yearn to see him again to refresh his tiring memory- the thought of losing the image of the angel was too much to think about.

The corridors he walked were dark- the pale light of the moon the only light he could go by as he passed the locked doors and empty suits of armour. But he did not see the darkened, shadowed blues as others did. His vision basked the surroundings in green, a pale glow that seemed to bounce off everything and light them up as plain as day, to the extent of the moon being too bright to look at. Everything was as emerald as his eyes, in so many different tones it was like looking out of green glasses. Of course, the discovery had shocked him three nights ago as his eyes had strained in the dark corridors he had walked, but now it seemed natural to him.

Another talent to add to the list, he thought dryly, it was the last talent that had driven Draco to disappear. He frowned into the green emptiness, he loved Draco more than life itself and without him he felt dead- more dead than he had ever felt before.

He could have been walking in the darkness for hours, or mere minutes, he didn't know. His legs carried him night after night when he couldn't sleep, as those stormy eyes haunted him beneath closed lids, and tonight was no exception. He was oblivious to everything around him, lost in his own thoughts as his legs carried on without demand, the night ignoring his presence yet keeping him shrouded the entire time.

It was this ignorance to his surroundings that caused his acute hearing to miss the hissed whispers and shuffling of feet from others who weren't made for the darkness as he was. They had been following him for a while now, waiting for the right moment.

He sighed again and let the night swallow it hungrily as the vibrations echoed in the armour he passed. Draco- the angel that walked without wings, the angelic face that he'd been unable to rid from his thoughts, not as though he wanted to. His entire being cried to be with him a little longer- just a moment to sustain him, make him forget about that little piece of him that seemed to be missing. He longed to touch that hair again, run his hand along his soft skin- look into those stormy eyes, and try to unravel the secrets they held. He wanted to place kisses on his pink lips, hell he wanted to place his lips everywhere- who didn't?

He turned down another corridor- now deep in the part of the school that no one ever walked any longer. The halls seemed even darker than the rest- cobwebs filled the corners, and they were much longer- windier than the rest of the school. They held the sinister air of being watched, that something was lurking in the darkness that you had yet to see. Things moved around and yet never moved at all, and the darkness outside of the one lone window was deeper than the others. The pursuers felt a waft of unease, but Harry didn't notice the change at all as he stared straight ahead into the green haze surrounding him.

Draco must have felt something though; he'd seen the change, he'd silently screamed with joy as he submitted his leg to him, wound his own around that powerful shin. He'd seen the lusty look on his eyes when he finally pulled away- he knew that Draco had tried not to look at him for the whole time beforehand. But why weren't those thoughts enough to ease his troubled mind? Why was he still haunted with 'what ifs' and 'buts' that he couldn't deny? Harry dropped his eyes and felt his stomach twist painfully, this was just too much- he needed Draco; he needed him so much it wasn't healthy to be apart. He longed to have any sort of contact at all- just hear his voice, just a sign that he was still alive!

His pace was slow, he didn't have anywhere to go anymore, no one he wanted to see, and he simply drifted at a pace that felt comfortable. In the winding corridors there were many doorframes to hide inside, many dark shadows to swallow you up if you didn't want to be seen, and those following were given many advantages to catch up with him. Two crept along one side of the corridor- three on the other, and slowly they began to encircle their victim who still had no idea of their presence.

Of course, they all thought themselves stealthy- cunning even. The simple truth was that they were hopeless, they were clumsy and their feet echoed in the darkness. Had Harry not been thinking he would have noticed them all the moment that they had the bright idea of stalking him, where he glided and made no sound they stepped on their toes and hissed to each other.

It was a further few minutes, only when they had wandered down a strangely familiar corridor, until they had they gotten into alignment. One was beside him in the shadows of the large snake like hall, two were in front and two behind. And the leader didn't need to give a signal for them to spring into action.

The one beside Harry veered into him, crushing his shoulder with his own and sending him straight into the wall with a loud crash. Had he bothered taking in his surroundings instead of trying to organise his suddenly panic-stricken mind, he would have realised it odd for a wall to crash at all. However, all he managed was a grunt of pain as his shoulder collided with the hard surface, as he was flipped onto his back to be held down from either side with two wands trained to his neck.

"Well well well, if it isn't pretty boy Potter," the one who had crashed into him sneered in the darkness, presuming Harry couldn't see his face in the shadows. He was a seventh year, a Ravenclaw to his surprise, he had a square jaw and menacing black eyes, ebony fingers twirling his wand as he taunted their captive, whose mind was rushing to find means of escape. He was shorter than Harry, but the other two holding him on either side had him at a height that bent his legs, his knees slowly shaking as he tried to keep upright, and so seemed much taller. Harry swallowed hard but didn't let the fear show, there was no way he could get out, his wand had been knocked from his hand and there were five of them.

But one of the five made sure that he wasn't going to retaliate, because the one person who seemed out of place, shifting uneasily on his feet and never meeting Harry's eyes, was Ron Weasley. The one who had been his best friend for nearly five years- the one who abandoned him because of his fame and the state he had been in. Harry's heart clenched painfully and his green eyes saddened as he looked at him, trying to catch his eye, asking him to tell him it wasn't true, but they shut tight as he received a blow to his jaw.

…

Draco's stomach gurgled pitifully as his stomach acid ate away at his insides, groaning in the darkness, loud enough to drown out the cracking of the fire. He grimaced momentarily, before pushing back the pain to stare back into the darkness he felt he'd known for far too long, the churning in his gut now a usual occurrence. He didn't know how long he'd been sitting there, days and nights merging into one expanse of black now, but he knew that it'd been too long. He didn't wish to leave- but the only reason he still remained was because of that rather conveniently placed glass of water that sometimes appeared out of nowhere. Strange place this, he mused again, but he wasn't complaining.

He supposed that what he was doing might be classified as self-harm in a way; he didn't want to eat- he wasn't eating, and he had yet to notice that his skin was slowly burning and his eyes drying in the warmth from the flames. It only seemed to bother him when he closed his eyes to sleep, or moved his arm to pick up the glass, and he'd grown used to the slow frying of his insides.

"Bloody Veela," he muttered for the hundredth time, his throat burning with the acid slowly sneaking up it like the fingers of fire before him. His face contorted with pain as he tried to swallow it down with little success and brought his stinging pink arm up to massage it gently. He suddenly wished greatly that there was someone else to rub it for him- someone in particular, and after what seemed like days of fighting he'd finally given up on scolding himself for all of the strange thoughts he had.

Okay- maybe there was something there, but he still had a little trouble believing those two hideous words. I mean, it was a little far fetched, wasn't it? It was like saying you adore all chocolate because you happen to like the taste of one bar, it's not something that you'd really do. But then again, he wasn't Harry – yes, he had finally stopped scolding himself for calling him that too – and he had no hope in hell of figuring out how his mind worked.

Once more Draco's mind cleared as he pushed away the thoughts of those eyes that seemed to hover everywhere he looked, and again his eyes unfocused as he merged into the small piece of mind he savoured for the hardest of times. He had been told before that it was rare to be able to clear one's mind naturally, to be able to shut off completely and think nothing of anything without years of practice, but he'd always put it down to his bloodlines. And with this piece of mind, the darkness and silence swallowed him up to leave only the dull crackle of spitting logs on the fire.

But only moments later Draco's head snapped around painfully as he heard a sudden crash on the door that loomed in the darkness as his only lifeline left. His throat seared and he hissed in pain as his stomach made another gurgle, but it wasn't just the gurgling that had snapped him out of his trance. No- that sound, that banging on the door- although he couldn't describe it, he knew that it wasn't good, and he felt compelled to help, to win. He glared at the door again, stood up onto shaky legs, and stumbled through the shadow.

He gasped and let out a small choking noise as his throat seared again and he tasted the tang of his stomach juices invade his mouth, and he threw himself against the door as silently as he could. His legs were screaming protest to the little movement- but he ignored them just as he had ignored pain his whole life. He coughed and tried to spit the acid out onto the floor, before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and pressing his ear up against the wood to hear what was going on. His heart was picking up a pace the rest of his body was having trouble coping with, and his palms were growing clammy as he pressed against the wood. Something was wrong- something was terribly wrong, and he felt more than compelled to jump into whatever scenario it was.

"I don't know what sort of Dark Magic you've used to get like this-" he heard through the door. The voice was raspy- probably one of the smokers that seemed to be growing amongst the other oblivious, picture perfect students of the school, influenced by mere muggles. Draco scoffed- whoever this was needed a beating no matter who was on the receiving end. "- But I want to make this clear, scum, that you're not going to get away with it!" there was a burst, more like a cackle Draco thought, of laughter that followed from three or so others. His deductive skills told him that whoever it was had to be a pretty worthy opponent if those arseholes needed to gang up against them. Either that or they were lower than he thought…

Draco felt the vibrations through the wood of the door, as the victim was either kicked or punched, another lower muggle influenced show of mindless violence. He scowled against the wood; the adrenalin suddenly pumping through his veins as the pain subsided and he listened intently to every movement. Something was happening to him- something strange that he didn't know he possessed was suddenly building up against that voice, that nasty, dirty voice he wanted nothing better than to end for good. He didn't even know who the person being beaten was! He'd never helped another person in his life if there hadn't been something in it for him, and now suddenly he wanted nothing better than to tear their attackers limb from limb.

"Wonder boy doesn't seem to high and mighty now, does he lads?" the voice cried mercilessly, the low tone rumbling through the wood, but Draco barely even noticed. His stormy eyes had sharpened but they stared wide at nothing in particular. His nostrils flared as pure anger like he never thought he would have possessed coursed through his veins and he clenched his fist into a ball so tight that his fingernails cut into layers of skin. Wonder boy- that was the name only he was permitted to use, only he was allowed to use for one person only. Harry Potter was against that door, Harry Potter was being beaten and more to the point, Harry Potter was taking it.

He let a low growl rumble deep in his throat as his muscles clenched angrily and he stood up straighter and turned to face the wood, no longer needing to listen. He needed to do something! He needed to get him out- get him safe. He needed to tend to the wounds he so stupidly listened to, completely oblivious of who it was. Another thump against the door made his eyes light with a fire they had never before possessed, with their icy exterior and another jolt of energy ran through him. He heard sliding and knew that Harry was sinking to the floor, and the growling in his throat only grew.

Angrily he pounded his fist against the wood- he _needed _to get Harry out before he tore those bastards apart- he needed to be safe. Another thump echoed through the darkness followed by a dull groan of pain and his insides twisted into a knot- his eyes fiery and wild- his knuckles white as blood began to pool between his fingers. He stared at the wood so hard they ached- he wanted that door to disappear; he needed it to be safe here while unsafe for the idiots on the other side of the wood.

He crushed his fist against the wood again, and from his palm slowly the grain disappeared to be replaced with a shimmering outline of what had once been there. But Draco had no time to be shocked with the door- because as he looked down to see Harry curled up defensively as the others sneered into his ear and kicked at his sides, he felt his heart stop. Those fucking shits were going to have a beating like they'd never imagined.

Draco's muscles never even ached as he bent down and plunged his hand through the translucent door before him and did something he hadn't even contemplated- an action completely spur of the moment. There had been no indication that the door was penetrable- it could have easily been as solid as before, yet he had ignored all logic as his mind screamed for the one thing he needed. He needed Harry- and he needed him on this side of the damned door. His bloody hands plunged into the boy's robes, taking great handfuls of the black material that stung the cuts in his palms, but he didn't care. He didn't even notice the gasps or yelps of surprise form the other people upon seeing his disembodied hands, and ripped the body back.

Harry's face- though still beautiful was in a state. His jaw looked broken and there was a thin line of blood trailing from his lip. His startling eyes were clouded with pain and one stood out against the dark bruising forming around it. He was conscious, his eyes screwed up in pain that he wouldn't bring himself to cry because of, and Draco felt a well of pride as he looked upon him.

A single shout of surprise and anger from the other side of the door, a single muggle curse word toward the boy they had beaten- was enough.

Draco ripped his eyes away from Harry as he stood up, his whole body burning with rage and his eyes so frightening- so startling as they sunk into his now gaunt and malnourished face that he could have even scared his father.

"No!" he heard from the floor, before the speaker moaned from the pain of talking. Draco turned to looked over his shoulder and his rage only burned brighter as he saw those emerald eyes wild and fearful, for him or for himself he no longer cared. He gave him the softest look he could muster and shook his head, dirty blonde hair falling over his eye as he did, before turning back around.

5- there were five of them- now crowding around the wall and pounding, screaming like banshees in rage that they had lost their prey. But one stood a little further back, staring at the door so intently that Draco could almost swear he could see them, and Draco growled. "Weasel!" he hissed low in his throat. Harry let out another moan, holding out his arm painfully as though to stop him, but Draco ignored it with the simple wave of his hand as he gripped his wand tighter. His stomach had shut up- his throat was giving it a rest- his muscles weren't burning and there was no longer a limp on his left leg. Had you seen him you could have sworn he was in perfect health had it not been for the haunting look on his pain face, chapped lips, and that face alone that would have followed you for the rest of your days.

His eyes darted quickly over the five, before they rested on a dark skinned seventh year with that voice- that very voice that had been taunting his Harry moments before. He didn't notice, that he had called the Veela he'd starved himself because of, his own. In that moment there was one thing on his mind- he was going to make that bastard wet himself before the night was through.

Levelling his wand perfectly, he shot three wordless stunners that hit all but the leader and Weasel- he had something special for him. The only reason he could even do those simple spells without the words, being that wordless magic is fuelled by emotions- his bloodlines letting him concentrate them to an extent. In that moment though- it wouldn't have mattered if he were Veela or not.

Harry watched through those pain clouded, panic stricken eyes, as his love, his everything, stepped through the translucent wall and into the fight. He looked like the walking death- but he knew that Draco would only use it to his advantage. He wanted Draco to come back! He didn't want him to endanger himself for him! He wasn't worth it; nothing was worth Draco's life. But before he could crawl his way to drag him back, the blonde had sprung into action- and the door turned to wood once more.

"No!" Harry choked as an angry, hopeless tear ran down his cheek before he rolled onto his back and cried out in pain.

Draco stepped out of the wood and didn't slow for the look of panic that crossed the seventh year's eyes. His heart was ablaze- he felt more alive, yet in the least control he had ever felt before, but he was certain that this was going to end with him as the victor- he was going to regain Harry's honour- he was going to beat them to a pulp.

Swiftly he brought his gaunt hand from the darkness of his robes and before the other boy could raise his wand or shout a spell through his shocked, open mouth, he had wrapped it around his neck. With all of his might, which was a lot seeing as how he hadn't eaten in over a week, he slammed the other against the wall, and dug the end of his wand painfully into his stomach as his victim spluttered and looked around wide eyed. But Draco's grip wasn't very hard- only firm enough to keep him in place for what he had to say. This was a contest of humiliation, and he knew just the way.

"Dark magic?" he sneered, their faces inches apart as he bore his frightening eyes into the scared almost black eyes of the other. "You really want to see some dark magic?" he asked again, and the boy spluttered as he jabbed his wand beneath his ribs threateningly. Although he was a few cm shorter- Draco once more seemed like a giant in comparison to the one in his grasp, and his sunken eyes never wavered.

"My father has killed more innocent people than you can ever imagine," he hissed, his voice deadly and venomous as he spat the acid in his mouth onto the others face with every word. "I've seen a man kept alive for three days with mortal injuries- unable to scream in pain," his voice alone sent shivers down the older ones spine, but his words were truly frightening. Draco didn't even notice his arm weakening as the muscles protested, and another wave of hate went through his entire being and his eyes sharpened. Ron took a step back and found his back against the wall- too frightened to run.

"I know over 26 ways to kill you, right now," he growled, and his eyes skirted up and down the other who let out a whimper of fright. Slowly, as he brought his eyes back up and his lips curled menacingly, eyes hard and unwavering, he moved his wand down. He kept the pressure great as he moved the wood slowly past the boy's stomach, letting the smile grow as he whimpered again, and eventually his wand came pressed, right between his legs.

It was known fact that if you hold a wand to a guys 'nether regions', he is twice as likely to do anything you ask than if you held it to his head. It was times like these that he was thankful of his knowledge for these strange things.

"I can keep you very much alive without this," he whispered into the other's ear.

"No- please!" the boy cried as his hands shook and he sent fleeting glances downward as he tried to hold back the tears threatening to fall. Draco's lip curled again and he jabbed the wand a little harder, and the boy in his grip let the first tear roll down his cheek and he incoherently muttered. Draco felt the heat of power course through his mind. The image of Harry curled up as he was rained with mere muggle kicks- refusing to fight back against his old best friend- it was sickening. His lip straightened out again and he stared daggers at the offender, remembering his harsh words, his mocking voice, his physical violence against _his _Harry!

"Just a simple cutting curse- mixed with a little of my own _dark _magic, and you'll be lying in your own blood, the one thing that makes you even human removed-" he muttered loud enough for him to hear as he jabbed again and more tears rolled down his cheeks.

"No, p-please!" he sobbed, too scared to bring his hands up from their position hanging limply by his side. Draco growled low in his throat- so now he had the nerve to ask for forgiveness after he'd beaten not just anyone- but someone who had asked for none of this? The nerve!

"Let me make myself clear," he sneered, forcing the boys head to face his own and look into his haunting eyes. "If you so much as look the wrong way at Harry again, if I so much as hear a whisper on the wind that you've said anything against him- you won't know your left from your right. My father's in Azkaban prison, my family have hideouts all over the world. Simply killing you will be no problem- no problem at all." Each word was empty but his voice- his eyes made them so real. Anger coursed through his veins at the wreck before him, the curses he would use lined up on his tongue ready to use but he held himself back. He didn't really plan on doing anything- staying away- staying in Azkaban was the least appealing thing he could imagine. Yet that fierce burning of his eyes made everything he said reality.

"Do I make myself clear?" he hissed, and he felt the boy swallow beneath his grip, his own blood now smeared over his neck. He painfully nodded his head from beneath the threatening- vice like grip on his throat, and the blonde's lip curled again as he leant into his ear.

"Believe me- I'm the least of your troubles." He muttered, before slamming the boy once more into the wall to put the message through and he watched as he sunk to the floor, racked in sobs. "And if you breathe a word of this to the teachers-" he began, but he didn't need to finish as his point had been made. Now- he spun sharply on his heel- the weasel!

Ron's eyes were firmly glued to the boy immersed in sobs that echoed into the darkness, his wand hung limply from his hand and he wore a haunted look in his blue eyes. Draco didn't have any physical punishment for him- it wasn't worth it. But the guilt of what he had now done would definitely be enough; it would cut deeper than any spell. Once more Harry's battered form flashed across his eyes, and once more they burned.

"You-" he hissed, bringing Ron's eyes to rise up to meet his own on the other side of the stretch of corridor. "You just being a whole new meaning to the word low," he sneered, and watched with satisfaction as the red head bowed his head in shame. He should be shameful! Everything he'd done- the betrayal! And all over something that Harry had no choice over- that Harry didn't even want.

"After all he's ever done for you!" he spat, and took another step closer, suddenly aware that the adrenalin running around his blood was slowly depleting as his limbs began to grow weak. "His parents died saving his life and ever since he's been hunted like a dog! He gets dragged into fights to 'save the world' when he's still only a child- and you have the right to feel jealous?" he roared, his words bouncing off the walls and rippling beneath their feet. Ron blinked in vein as he tried to hold back the wall of guilt that was suddenly coursing through him, what had be done?

"You make me sick!" Draco hissed, and knew that it had to end as his knees weakened and he fought to keep himself standing. "Take a good look at yourself- I hope you wish you'd never been born!" and his haunting eyes dimmed with the other's suffering- the one who was curled up in pain that moment- and his suffering reflect in himself, flicked across his eyes. Ron felt the first tear roll down his cheek and Draco sneered in return.

"Get this mess cleaned up- and don't ever go near him again!" he sneered, before he slowly turned his head toward the place on the wall where he knew the door would be. He let all of the strength he had left focus on that door- the room he loved. He was still unsure as to how he knew it worked, how he knew it appeared to those who needed it, and the moment his thoughts flickered to Harry the door seemed to read his pain. With speed as fast as you could blink it re-appeared, and Draco forced himself into a walk and bit on his tongue as the acid crept up his throat again. He gave one last glare at the Weasley now walking guiltily toward the other boy as though to comfort him, before he turned the handle, grimaced in the pain, and stepped through.

It only took him two steps before his knees buckled beneath him and he landed with a soft crack in the darkened room before falling painfully onto his side.

Somehow Harry had managed to push himself into a sitting position during the time that Draco had left. The entire time his heart had ached and his mind had been plagued with images of what could happen without him. But the moment he had seen the door appear his heart had leapt and his soul exploded, but that had been replaced by shock and hurt as he saw Draco properly for the first time.

He was pale and gaunt- his eyes seemed sunken and were surrounded by dull shadows that made his stormy eyes stand out even more. His lips were dry and cracked, and he watched as though in slow motion that man he loved fall with a sickening crack to his knees, before dropping limply to his side he felt his entire being scream. He had forced himself through the pain as he'd dragged himself to Draco's side, as he'd turned him onto his back. He watched with heartache as those stormy eyes flickered a few times- just as they had that night- before closing again, unconscious. He let his cry echo in the darkness, and lay down by his side.

…………………………………………………………………………………………………..

Lordy that took me a while! I know- it's violence and poor ikkle Harry got all beaten up, and yes I hate myself too. But I hope the writing was all right, even if the plot is like NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

Reviews!

Kt- AWW! Thanks, I'm glad it keeps getting better, I hope this doesn't ruin that comment. Sorry I didn't thank you for the review for chapter 6, it arrived just after I'd posted the chapter! Keep reading!

Shakespeares Whore – I'm surprised that this story is up to the standards of keeping you entertained, at work none the less! Hope this one makes your time a little better- sorry about the violence, **cringe**

firefairy42 – wow! Dancing! Woo! Your welcome, but I really don't see what help I was. Yeh, I'm English, and proud! Woot!

WhiteDragonPriestezz – 8 days! Wooo, beats three huh, but he got out- or rather back in in the end!

retarted monkey – point made, and it's a very good point too :P

Kilikapele – ah yes, this chapters a little opposite to the last, isn't It though. I'm glad I finally got Ron in there too!

CrAzYLoOn – ooh, that could be interesting… ooh, sorry, zoned off there- another speedy update! Glad you liked Hermionie!

stargirl2004 – awwwwwwww! Did I really? I love when I'm in an 'awww' kinda mood! Hope this was alright too.

CompleteGeek – YEH, I KNOW! THANK YOU! My humour is a little… unique, but it's not really got a place in this story. Maybe some day I'll write a v humorous one just for you!

Caelistes – uh hum… I'm glad you made good use of the fluff! And I'm glad you liked the golden star, I may hand out more in later chapters! Woot!

triola – ah, yes, the stars are my speciality, but they're only for good little reviewers –hint hint- wow! Weekly shots of the story! And here I am giving you an overdose! Bad me **slaps hand** keep reading though, don't get too high.

Makalani Astral – hoped you like the length of this one!

And thanks to HecateDeMort (OMG 3 words!), bunk64, sanzo and Alea, I lurve you all!


	9. touché

Right, this one took me a while, and it's kinda long but you have to understand that it's been unbearably hot over the past couple of days and my mind's gone like 'beeeeeeeeeeeeeeeep' and had stopped working completely.

Reviews! Oh my god! I've been getting them non-stop for the past three days, hell- I even got three while I was in ICT yesterday!

I think this is cause for another gold star –pins garish, flashing gold star on reviewer's old granny jumper- there!

Another chapter you'll all probably hate me for- the ending anyway… don't worry, you'll know what I mean when you've read it.

Deep breathes now!

**Chapter 9 - touché**

Once more there was darkness, but this time its occupant wasn't alone, and neither was he conscious. The fire burned mercilessly from the corner, the cracking and spitting form the dancing flames seeming more sinister than comforting- to Harry the darkness was just frightening.

His eyes flickered as he regained consciousness for the first time since he had fallen into an uneasy sleep the night before. He'd been too weak to take Draco to the Hospital Wing where he needed to be- it had hurt to walk or even sit and he would have died trying to carry him. He had hated himself for doing nothing- he'd cursed himself a dozen times over and cried helplessly as he stroked back the greasy hair that still fell into Draco's eyes. But his tears had dried and he had curled around the unconscious form to fall into a disturbed sleep, only thankful for the soft beating of Draco's heart through his chest.

His eyes shut dreamily again and he rolled onto his back, yawning deeply from the little sleep he'd got, stretching out his arms and snapping his lips together as he woke. He opened his eyes to see the darkness- and assumed that it was still night, and frowned into the shadow before sitting upright. He looked out to see the grand velvet chair near the angry fire, the darkness branching out like fingers to reach everywhere that the light missed, and he remembered.

His heart leapt up into his throat as he felt the darkness swallow up everything within it, the darkness that he'd seen all of his life and had grown to hate. It reminded him of those times in that closet at the Dursley's as a child, or the Chamber of Secrets. A shudder ran down his spine and he leapt to his feet, turning in circles to try and find Draco to take him to the Hospital Wing. He nearly made a full turn before he spotted him, the bunch of dark robes merging into the darkness, but that beautiful golden hair still shining like the sun.

His heart both leapt and sunk at the same moment as he tore his way over to his side, skidding the last few feet on his knees. He was so happy to see Draco there again; happy that as he pressed his ear to the blonde's chest he could still hear his heartbeat. Happy to see his beautiful chest raising and falling, happy to see that his knee hadn't been resting in the wrong position. He was so happy to be able to run his hand over that smooth skin, no longer creamy but pale. But at the same moment, as he looked to see that sunken face with the shadows lining his closed eyes- he felt despair for his health. He was malnourished, starved even, and his knee was still broken no matter what position it was in.

He loved Draco, loved his hair whether it was dirty or silky, loved his skin whether it was creamy or pale, and he would love those eyes if only they opened. Seeing him hurt- all because of him, it just brought back so many painful memories that he wanted to shut himself away forever. Memories he thought he'd seen through another's eyes, memories he had forgotten with every glance he got of Draco.

He shook his head as he brushed back a bit of Draco's hair gently, barely daring to touch him and hurt him even more. Now was not the time to be feeling sorry for himself- and it was also not the time to feel bad about hurting the blonde, because there was no other way he was going to get him better. He took a deep breath to ready himself, ignoring his heart beating faster and his breaths becoming sharp as half of him screamed that he shouldn't do it. He screwed up his eyes and balled his fist- he had to do it, the only way Draco was going to be getting any help was if he got him there, and that would involve hurting him.

Trying to control his shaking hands, keeping his face hard and emotionless in the fear that he may back out at any moment, he slipped an arm gently under Draco's shoulders and propped him a little off the ground. His body was weak and limp, instead of Draco's head tucking nearly into his chest as it had done the last time, it hung limply over his arm and made him cringe. Gently he picked up his arms and placed them over his chest so that they wouldn't hang by his sides, more to ease himself than Draco, although he wouldn't admit it, and carefully pushed his arm further back so that Draco's head wouldn't loll about as though he were dead. He cringed again, and forced himself to continue.

Now was the hard bit though, now was the bit that was really going to hurt Draco, that he was going to hurt Draco doing. He scowled to himself as his arm hovered near Draco's knees, he tried to convince himself to do it, he _had _to do it! He took another steadying breath and cleared his face, his emerald eyes hardening with the pain he felt, and his jaw set with the determination he summoned. He slipped his arm beneath Draco's knees, relaxing a little as he didn't hear another crack from his injured leg, and looked down.

Draco's head now lay to its side facing his chest, and his hair covered his eyes again. He smiled gently, he loved that hair, he loved everything. Another shudder crept up his spine and another wave of heat seemed to hit him but he ignored it, and as gently as he could he raised himself to his knees, and then stood up.

And there was the crack. He cringed and looked away as he heard the sickening crunch from his knee as it bent over his arm, and he took two deep breaths before looking back down again. Draco's delicate eyebrows were together a little, frowning even in his condition and it only hurt Harry more. He couldn't help but think that he could feel it- that it was causing him pain and he was unable to express it. No! He scolded himself; don't think about your own feelings! Get Draco out, get him to the Hospital Wing.

But- wait a minute! He suddenly thought, widening his eyes and standing where he was for a few moments. The Hospital Wing, he hadn't been able to take him only hours before because he was too hurt- because he could barely even sit up. And now- now look! He was carrying Draco in his arms, he had yawned as he woke and had sat up without any trouble at all, and he hadn't even noticed.

But how the hell was that possible? He asked himself as he continued on walking and moving his arm a little to make Draco more comfortable. He hadn't taken any potions- cast any spells, hell, he hadn't even picked his wand up from the corridor, Draco had. The room couldn't have done anything as- he jostled with Draco for a moment as he turned the handle on the door- it was just a room! Even if it is the room of requirement it only gives you things, it doesn't do them for you!

Harry blinked a few times as he stepped out into the winding corridor he'd been beaten in the night before. The golden sun was streaming through the window at the far end, and now in the light, the shadows and hiding places from the night were non-existent. The winding of the walls that seemed like the coils of a snake now looked warm and smooth, curving gently and winding like a river. In the light he recognised the hallway, he remembered the times only last year when he had held the DA meetings in fear of being caught, but he didn't have time to look.

The suits of armour glistened as he passed them and the marble floor made little noise beneath his feet. As he passed into another hallway, the sunlight intensified and he squinted as he passed beneath the beams as he moved by the windows lining either side. Had he not been in the position he was in, he would have seen that it was a beautiful day, cold but with sunlight that would warm you. But no amount of light could relieve the ice that had surrounded his heart and the pain that coursed in his mind as he felt the weight in his arms, occasionally hearing a click as Draco's knee moved a little too much.

His mind still whirled with what had happened to him, how he had managed to heal from broken bones to cuts and bruises with nothing, leaving no trace of their existence. It seemed that new gift number three had just shown itself, and he was very grateful. If he hadn't been able to heal they'd still be in that damned room, and Draco would never get the help he needed. Hearing Draco's threats about the teachers the night before he knew that he'd have had a little trouble explaining himself, and in turn it would only get Draco into trouble. He just hoped and prayed that everyone else was in classes; he knew for certain that the blonde wouldn't take kindly to being seen like this.

He couldn't help but look down, Draco's hair sparkled as the beams hit him as they passed, and although he was still gaunt and pale, he seemed healthier than he had in the darkness. Harry's heart leapt in a little relief and he pushed onward, ignoring the straining in his arms as he made his way at the fastest pace he could muster. He had to slow down for the staircases, making sure that the body in his arms didn't move too much, but luck seemed to be on his side and he didn't have to wait for any.

It didn't take long until his muscles were burning in protest and his breathing was becoming harsh, but he only forced himself harder. He wouldn't allow himself to slow down for anything- even when Peeves appeared. He just growled low in his throat, and for the first time he had ever remembered, Peeves flew right back through the wall he'd come from. Nothing was going to get in the way of his Draco; nothing was going to stop him from getting to the hospital wing, whether his own muscles or a hoard of stampeding dragons.

As he moved, the floor changed from marble to wooden, as he wound through disused corridors and right past the classrooms he had lessons in. He felt himself sigh in relief as he heard the chatter from behind the doors, everyone was in class and it would save his Draco the humiliation he'd feel when he woke. However he didn't see any reason for him to be humiliated- he was the bravest person he had ever know, he'd made a seventh year cry and had told his ex-best friend the words he didn't have the heart to say himself. He still missed Ron, he'd probably be forgiving enough to accept his apologies, but the words Draco had spoken, so sincere and so deep, made him just well up inside.

Draco did feel something for him, he'd never done anything to help other people before, and he'd leapt into a fight when he hadn't eaten in a week and won- all for him. How he'd managed it Harry still didn't know, how could a person be so imposing, frightening when they should have been too weak to walk? There were things about Draco he had yet to learn, and he couldn't wait to learn them all. To explore every part of him, to map out everything there was to know- to see. He wanted his kisses returned- and this new hope made him feel that there was a chance that someday they would, he wanted him to open his eyes- hell he wanted a proper conversation.

But as he looked down to see the battered form of that very person in his arms, he knew that he'd never be able to force him against his will. It may take time, it may happen the moment he woke, he didn't know- but he knew that he'd work until he could. Right now though, before any of that could happen, Draco needed healing- and a lot of food. He wanted to be the one to nurse him back to health, but he knew without giving it a second thought that he'd be hopeless, because however much he preformed miracles upon himself he wouldn't have anything less than the best for his Draco.

He turned and slammed his back against the Hospital Wing doors, ignoring the shock that spread over his back as he turned and stepped through to find a rather peeved look on the nurse's face. But the second her eyes found their way to the boy in his arms the expression was dropped immediately, and she ushered him over to a bed where he carefully placed Draco on the sheets- watching as his head fell to the side.

"What happened?" she asked calmly, yet with concern in her voice as she ran her hands over Draco, making Harry growl low in his throat. What would he say? He thought fast, his mind running through all of the possibilities until he decided upon the answer closest to the truth he could come up with.

"He hasn't eaten since he disappeared 8 days ago, and I think his knee's broken but I don't know how it happened," he lied as he continued to stare at the blonde, carefully picking up the arm that hung limply over the side of the bed and placing it in his own hand. A beam of light played across Draco's face, highlighting the shadows beneath his eyes and making his pale skin so bright it was almost hard to look at, but he never stopped looking beautiful.

From high above them, at the height of the ceiling yet higher and lower at the same time, Draco had a view that he never thought he'd have. He was looking down, not just at the matron, not just at Harry, but himself. He could see everything perfectly, but at the same time it was like he could sense something missing. It was the strangest feeling he'd ever had, he wasn't sure if he was dead or if he was dreaming, if that was really him or if it was a memory of some kind.

But he wasn't sad with the prospect of being dead, he wasn't happy with the prospect of being dead, he wasn't angry with the prospect of being dead, in fact he didn't feel anything. He was just- there, plain and simple. There was nothing about him but the views he saw, the memories he was gathering. He saw the hurt and longing in those emerald green eyes, he could sense the confusion on the face of the matron, on the way she stole glances. He could see his hand being held and could imagine the feel but he couldn't actually feel it. But what was most prominent- like a pungent smell wafting through the air, was love.

Love- how did he know it was love? He had no idea, to be honest he had no desire to know how he knew either, but he was certain of it. He was just as sure that it was love, that he was sure his nimbus 2001 was expensive. It was a fact; it came as easily as though you were stating statistics. It was love, and he couldn't deny it. The smell hit him again- it wasn't actually a smell, but it emulated in waves like pollen from a plant or sound waves through the air, but this time it wasn't just coming from the bearer of those emerald eyes- but the figure of himself on the bed. He could almost see the shimmering in the air- and yet he didn't know what to think, he couldn't feel any of it, he was just learning- knowing.

Everything suddenly seemed so damned simple; it was just laid out there in front of him. He didn't have any thoughts on it, any feelings about it, but it was there. The whole room was buzzing with emotions, but for some reason he didn't see the need to look anywhere else. It was just like he was meant to be seeing that, it was just meant to be, meant to happen.

He looked on with blank thoughts and an emotionless view as he saw Madame Pomfrey try to shoo Harry away, but he wouldn't leave- only gripped the hand defensively and gave the matron a cold and clear look. He wasn't going to leave- and whatever she did would make no difference whatsoever.

He got his first real look of the Veela he had actually taken, surprisingly enough. His raven hair shone reddish in the light but it was barely noticeable, and it tumbled to his collarbone with the thickness that it had always held. His nose was smooth and rounded and his jaw was strong, his cheekbones high and eyelashes long and dark concealing the startling eyes within. He had to be as tall as the Weasel, he thought without emotion, taller than average but not as lanky as the redhead. On the contrary, Harry had broad shoulders and a wide chest with long sturdy legs and good sized arms, whereas Ron would have to lose a foot to be in that proportion. Although he knew he should think he looked great, attractive, in his state he still didn't feel anything- just saw.

And finally he saw himself- attractive too, but hideously ill. He was dirty and needed a shower, he probably stank, his face was tinged pink and his neck burnt a little more from the fire, but his lips were deathly pale and chapped, and his eyes seemed so sunken that they merged into shadows. He wasn't thin yet, but he looked wasted. In his normal state he knew that he'd be in a good shape, toned but not big, with nice skin and prominent features. A sharp nose and chin, high cheekbones and golden hair, stormy grey eyes and rosy lips. The two fit- light and dark- ivory and ebony- grey and green- silver and gold, it was just like pieces of a jigsaw.

He'd just had an epiphany… everything made sense.

He continued to watch as the matron finally gave up persisting and handed Harry a vial of red liquid that he eyed suspiciously, glancing at the 'him' on the bed. He felt a small breeze pass over him- a change from hearing and feeling nothing at all, and he knew that whatever liquid it was it would wake him up. Harry argued with the matron for a further few minutes, complaining about the liquid no doubt, asking about what it would do and such. He knew that he would have felt embarrassed yet secure had he been able to feel anything at all, except that breeze that was growing steadily, and continued to watch as the matron began to grow agitated.

And finally he saw Harry gently tip his head back, and he once more could imagine how it felt though he felt nothing at all. One last breeze of not air- not cold nor warm- just a breeze of… something washed over him, and he knew that he'd wake up momentarily. He watched Harry give the matron one last look, before looking down at himself with concern and anticipation, before he cracked open the mouth on the 'him' below and poured the liquid down it.

Draco was roughly pulled back down and began coughing, spluttering with the foul bitter taste of whatever that had been run down his throat, and slowly woke up the rest of his body. His knee seared and burned with intense pain that ran down his nerves even if he didn't move, throbbing like the beating of his heart, and his stomach growled angrily.

"Merlin that stuff tastes foul!" he managed as he subconsciously gripped Harry's hand right back without realising it, and grimaced with the pain that coursed through him as he gritted his teeth and fell back against his pillow. His eyes seared and he could almost imagine the surface cracking and he screwed his eyes up tightly in a vein attempt to calm them as he swallowed the acid creeping back up his neck.

"Well I think he'll live," the nurse muttered dryly as she scuttled to the other side of the room, presumably to gather more potions. He heard a soft growling low in the throat of the person beside him and felt his hair being swept back gently and a warm rush spread through him, merging with the pain that coursed through his body.

"OI!" he shouted indignantly at the nurse who he felt glare at him even without opening his eyes, and he felt the hand clasped around his tense. "My leg feels like its being ripped apart by a ravenous dog!" he complained, and he heard her huff, and in response gritted his teeth as another wave of pain shot through his body, coursing down his backbone and through every nerve in his body. He felt himself arch his back as tears of pain pricked the edges of his eyes and the hand around his squeezed gently and another hand was placed on his forehead.

"Don't worry, she's coming," he heard Harry speak gently into his ear- his warm breath tickling his skin and causing the hair on his neck to stand on end as a shudder ran down his spine and another wave of heat passed him. He grunted in response, and coughed on the acid making its way into his mouth as he jerked every time he let one escape.

Harry was more scared than he'd ever remembered being- every time he'd faced Voldemort wouldn't add up to the worry that he felt as he gripped the hand of the man he loved, coughing and wheezing, his lungs bubbling and his stomach groaning. His heart clenched and he frowned and he tried to comfort him as best he could, all the while sending glares in the direction that the matron had disappeared in. Thankfully the next time she appeared again she had five bottles in her arms, and in that moment he no longer cared which was which.

Rather forcefully he noticed, glaring at her as she did it, she tipped back Draco's head in between coughs and emptied a vial into his mouth. He coughed a little longer, and Harry tightened his grip, his emerald eyes emulating the worry he felt, and slowly he calmed down.

"'Bout bloody time," Draco muttered after the heat had spread through his whole body, engulfing the pain he had felt to be replaced by a warm sensation. His skin tingled again and another shudder went through him and his stomach fluttered as Harry's other hand found its way to his shoulder to rub circles, soothing him. He forced himself to crack open his eyes, and although they didn't hurt any longer, they didn't work very well, everything was a strain to see.

"My eyes," Draco began, bringing a hand in front of his face as he waved it about, causing him to strain. "They don't seem to be working too well," he mused and placed his hand back on his chest as he strained to read the expression on the matron's face.

"What happened to them?" she asked, but before he could answer he'd had another potion shoved down his neck, this time having a different affect. He immediately felt ill, the potions threatening to escape again, and he tried to lean over the bed to throw up- but with more strength than he'd have given her credit for, she pushed him back up and put a hand over his mouth until he'd forced himself to swallow it back down. It tasted like lard, and he knew at once it was a nutritional potion, one of the very things he'd spent his entire life trying to avoid thanks to the weight they made you gain. He hoped with all of his might that he was stick thin because the tiniest bulge when he was released- and he'd sue her for all she was worth!

"Urg!" he cried indignantly and held out his tongue in disgust as he felt his stomach greedily eat away at the potion as it forced its fat self down. He cringed- damn nurse!

"Well? What happened to them?" she demanded as though she hadn't just forced that wretched potion down his neck at all. He gave her the strongest glare he could muster but it was hard as his stomach bubbled and his mind could picture his arteries clogging horribly.

"I sat for eight days in the dark in front of a fire, that's what," he muttered as he brought a hand to his throat and tried to stop himself being ill again as his mouth watered- the first sign that he would. She clicked her tongue at him with irritation before bustling away again, leaving him suddenly aware of the other person.

"How do you feel?" Harry asked him with that lovely, deep voice as another shudder crept up his spine. Slowly he brought his eyes up to meet his- for the first time he truly looked into them, and tried to hide the sudden wave of warmth that rushed through him with that look.

"Ill," he muttered, and he strained to see Harry smile sadly and brush that irritating piece of hair from his eye again. His stomach gave another growl and again he felt a wave of nausea rush through him and he grimaced and shut his eyes as he sunk into the pillow. The shudder that ran through him again did nothing for the potions his body wanted to expel with the gentle touch, and he swallowed to keep it down.

"Mr Malfoy!" he heard from above him and he snapped open his eyes to the noise- and at once felt them both surge with pain.

"Aarg!" he cried as he clamped them both shut again and he felt the grip on his hand tighten again as he listened to Harry scold the nurse for tricking the eye drops on him.

"Damned woman," he muttered as the pain potion he'd taken made its way upward to slowly take effect and soothe the burning, as his eyes healed. He raised his burnt arm up to his face and rubbed them until they felt fine again, before he tried to open them.

Harry turned away from Madame Pomfrey as he watched Draco's eyes flutter open and adjust to the light, and nearly gasped as warmth ran through him. His eyes- they looked so bright from the drops that they glistened in the sunlight, as though he had charmed them, and the mysterious secrets they held only intensified as he once more wanted to lose himself in them. His stomach fluttered uncomfortably as he watched Draco blink as he adjusted- his face no longer scornful but a little shocked, and he felt relief run through him.

But once more Draco felt his head tipped back as another potion was tipped down his neck, and once more he wanted to be sick, but in a different way. It slugged along his body, he felt it slosh through his blood towards his knee, and when it reached there he had the uncomfortable experience of 100 tiny pins pricking at his skin and muscle. He gritted his teeth and glared down his leg as though expecting them to be there, despite knowing that they would not be.

"This last one's a sleeping potion, Mr Malfoy," the nurse informed after a few moments and he looked up to see her holding out a purple flask for him. He raised an eyebrow- thankful that he'd be able to sleep and get away from it all, yet at the same time noticing the sinking of his heart as he gave a side-glance to Harry who was frowning. "Make sure to drink every last drop," she said before turning on her heel and stalking away to another bed.

Hold up- he thought, raising his eyebrow and eyeing her as she walked. Why had she just left- it was almost as though… oh no… he inwardly groaned, the damned nurse was giving them some alone time. But then again, he thought rationally, it's not all that bad- I get to sleep and not think about it at all for a few hours after.

Draco was still holding his hand, Harry thought as his heart soared, he could feel his palm along his, he could run his fingers over his and skirt along his skin and Draco didn't even seem to mind! Another shudder crept up his spine as all worry for him vanished as he watched him carefully inspect the bottle with unfocused eyes, and knew he too was simply concentrating on their touch. But suddenly he felt guilty for no longer being worried- it had been because of him that they were in the hospital wing now anyway. He needed to apologise- Draco may have forgiven him but he needed to relieve the stress that was suddenly tugging at his insides like an animal. He didn't know why Draco was even tolerating him now, but he knew that he loved him, that he'd been the reason Draco fought, that he'd been the reason Draco disappeared.

"I'm sorry Draco," he muttered, and looked down guiltily at his hand as he played with it. He held it in his hand and ran his other over Draco's fingers that were protruding through his own, running his fingers so lightly that Draco shuddered but still didn't draw his eyes away from the vial in his hand.

"About what?" Draco replied simply with his silky purr, laced with the lust he suddenly felt with the light touch on his fingertips. He had a very strong urge to suddenly tug those hands closer, but he had enough self-control not to as he drew his eyes carefully from the bottle. He fixed with those emerald eyes in a blank stare, it was hard, but sincere- it showed that he didn't care, that he'd forgiven him.

Harry really was hot- those green eyes framed by dark lashes asked him so many questions, but he simply quirked his eyebrow in return- refusing to lose to the eyes that unnerved most people. He could tell that Harry was confused- confused as to why he didn't care, but he simply didn't. He should have nothing to feel sorry about; it hadn't been his fault, yet he blamed himself for everything. His stomach did another flip as he watched those eyes, feelings another wave of heat hit him, and made him swallow hard as his stare softened to show the desire he felt creeping up from his toes.

Harry felt his heart going wild as it tried to tear itself out of his chest and toward the blonde that was looking at him with those eyes he could finally lose himself in. But he couldn't help but feel confused- why had he just forgiven him like that? The stormy greys were so sincere that he couldn't help but feel a little awed, and he felt a deep desire to move a little closer into him.

Draco sighed, he couldn't do this- this was too intense and he was far too tired. He wanted to take that potion and get it over and done with, see Harry on familiar ground instead of wounded and numb in the hospital wing. Although his feelings were now set out straight, there were now many questions and he was exhausted. But as he moved his eyes back up and away from the purple liquid he played between his fingers he stopped breathing, and his heart beat and his stomach fluttered.

Harry's breath entwined with the blondes as he leant over the bed, leaning so softly that he barely put weight on the mattress as he simply stared into those grey eyes that now seemed a little surprised. But Draco didn't turn away- those eyes didn't waver as he stared into his own, as the heat hit each other from their secluded spot between the curtains.

"Why did you save me?" he muttered as he let his eyes skirt across Draco's face- a little colour coming back in as the potions began to take effect, his eyes no longer so sunken and drawn. Again he looked beautiful, and as he reached up to brush that piece of hair away, Draco's eyes followed his eyes and he felt him shudder, and he let a small smile curl his lip. This was the moment he had been waiting for, for weeks, the moment his heart had yearned for and his stomach had flipped repeatedly over.

"Because-" Draco whispered, trying to find the right words, as his mind seemed sluggish with the extremely close proximity. His heart was beating faster and his breaths were long and shallow as he felt the other's breath on his skin and the hand that was finding its way around his back as Harry only leant closer. He shuddered again- why did this always happen to him?

"Because-" he tried again, painfully aware that Harry was only leaning closer, their bodies coming closer and closer until his heart beat uncomfortably and he felt his eyes skirt over the brunette as he took in everything. Harry's leg pressed against his own as he moved closer and Draco swallowed hard as he let his eyes jump about almost like a scared rabbit- unlike any of the calm, silky reactions he gave everyone else when in this position. Harry's nose brushed against his as he tipped his head slightly to the side, his eyes never leaving his as he teased, and Draco's stomach fluttered.

Before he knew what he was doing, his own hands were snaking up as they searched around Harry's neck, feeling the other shudder as he had just done, and in the end he tore his eyes away. He was tired and injured- plus the curtains were wide open. He'd have to play the Veela at his own game, make _him _the one in control of the situation. He could almost feel Harry's heart sink, and he did the only thing he could think to do. He uncorked the vial with his teeth, and gave the Veela the smarmiest smirk he could give before downing the bottle, which fell from his hands as he sank back into the pillows- unconscious.

Harry smirked as his eyes skirted over the sleeping form and he placed a kiss on his forehead.

"Touché," he muttered, just as the nurse returned.

………………………………………………………………………………………………..

And – wow! What a change, I'm going to reply to your reviews!

WhiteDragonPriestezz – I agree, I doubt Harry would take kindly to Filch hanging Draco up by his thumbs in detention… although…he could probably make the situation a little interesting…

Felix-the-bandit – yes, lets hope these small spells of writers block stay small so I can keep updating quickish… I'm glad you think I'm worth repeating the word 'genius' too, because I'm very chuffed. Two chapters back to back, wow! You really are a lucky one, aren't you?

Earthwytch – well, I think this has comfort in it, but you'll just have to wait to hear about Ron, won't you… ;)

Katsu Kitsune – mmmm… chocolate! Eh- sorry, what? Oh… yeh, here's the next chapter **munch** I – **swallow** hope you like it enough to give me more chocolate! Err… I mean… **looks shifty **

CrAzYLoOn – ah, dear- silly little dirty person. There is more to life than dirt you know, although I am drawing this out a bit, aren't I! THAT'S COS I'M EVIL! HAHAHA!

dragondaughter – GASP! A medal! Wow! Is it silver? Cos gold is just sooo last season, LOL! Cheers matey!

Makalani Astral – and this one was eeeeeeeeeven longer!

Shakespeares Whore – NO! Don't feel sorry for Ron, I think, and yet I agree with you. That's the whole point of him though, play on the reader's emotions, and toy with you people! Woo! **Munches on baked goods** you know; you people are going to get me mentally fat!

Leïlia – OMG! I MEAN… GOD OF FANFICS? Dahl, I think you're praising me a little too much there- I don't think I could handle any godly worship, although I wouldn't decline the offer- NO! Right, thanks for the 'I love you!' bit- that made me smile!

Danish Pastry 28 – avid follower? Christ- I really am starting a cult!

firefairy42 – yay! English… No, actually I'm not doing any exams at the moment but a load of my friends are, I'm kinda glad though, you should be too, because then I'd just be revising and I'd have absolutely no time to update!

Alea – ah! More love, I'm being smothered! **Choke** it's like the fluff… mmm… anyway! I'm glad I get you to scream at your computer- really makes me proud of myself! Woo! Hope you liked this!

kt – yeh, isn't it great to read fanfictions when your in the right mood? Lately, well since I last updated I haven't been in the right mood AT ALL! It's really annoying, I just couldn't get in the right feel for the story, but I really got into this one at the end.

djs – YAY! I'm on an alert list! Woo! I'm glad I have another one to add to my regulars list now- the rest of them were getting boring. JOKE! Lol, nice to know you like it, I'm glad you found it!

vanakuvixen – awww! I was grinning when I got your review, even though it was only short. I really love when people tell me I'm a good writer! Really uplifts me, especially after that stupid Jacqueline Wilson woman is becoming so damned popular when I really don't like her story lines- or her rings for that matter.

Kilikapele - OMG! How did they go? I hope they were alright, and It really means a lot to me when you can read my work to celebrate! Hope the results are good whenever you get them!

CompleteGeek – I'm glad you feel so strongly about Ron, I've been trying to build emotions around him for a while. I'm even more glad that it was your fave chapter- it was really fun to write, and yeh, I did like what Draco said, I think it seemed rather realistic!

Natasha AKA Tash – hope this answered some questions, please don't stop asking them- I don't want you confused or anything.

stargirl2004 – OMG NOT THE FLUFF-NOT-ANGST PATROL! ANYTHING BUT THAT! I WAS ONLY T-T-TRYING TO WRITE! PLEEEEASE DON'T HURT ME! Lol, I hope this was a little fluffy- I was more trying on description though. But as with most stories there are always parts you like over others, and there have been some people that loved it, and some crazy people like yourself that have brawled their eyes out and threatened me! Lol!

Caelistes – yeh, ugly Draco, -shudders- oh well, the potions should help all of that. Anyway- he was only defending poor ikkle Harry's honour!

HecateDeMort – OMG! WE MIGHT REACH A WHOLE COHEARENT SENTENCE BY THE END OF THE MONTH! Actually- lets make that two months…

lovi – yeh, Ron, GRRR! But I'm glad you liked it!

SilverDragonWings – puts hand reassuringly on shoulder- calm down love, I'm sure Ron will get what's coming to him **hint, hint… **I don't want you breaking your poor little hands and stop yourself from typing, and I'm rather chuffed that I got you searching for the right words.

Triola – ah, I'm sure I'll take you up on that offer at some point to come love! I love your 'screw morality' line, v funny. Okay- I'm glad I can't overdose you because this is pretty long and I've got to admit I struggled with the first half so there's a chance that it won't be too good, but at least I tried eh!

Don't forget to review peeps, even though I don't think this chapter's particularly good, if you comment I may be able to change it if I can bring myself too! Ciao!


	10. the dark mark

OMG PEEPS! I've officially reached over 170 reviews! Wow! Keep it up!

Sorry about the lateness, I haven't been able to find the right music to get in the feel for it, but I hope it's alright…

Talley Ho!

**chapter 10 – the dark mark**

Darkness, reaching everywhere as far as the eye could see, spread over the surroundings like a blank canvas or a starless night. Draco's grey eyes glanced over everything as he tried to make out any shapes at all, trying to tell if there was even anything there to see. It seemed so dark that it was almost as though it was swallowing up all of the light to drain it of anything- yet it was light enough to see. Draco raised his eyebrow at the expanse of black and buried his hands in his pockets as he felt a shiver run down his spine, before he continued to walk again.

Harry's green eyes were once more shadowed; he knew he was invisible against the endless darkness yet he didn't know how he knew at all. Honestly though, in that moment he couldn't care less, for there was one person walking silently in the darkness that was drawing all of his attention.

Draco.

He was clothed in black, a long black cape that billowed in some unseen wind along with rather out of place dress robes that reached above his knee and black trousers. He was almost merging into the darkness, and Harry didn't want to ruin the moment, the beautiful image, by basking everything in green. He didn't need to though, for in the endless black his face shone out like the sun, his golden hair glistened in unseen light, and his creamy skin lit up everything it touched. He wanted to be the one to touch it, to caress it and feel the same wave of pleasure as he had the last time- when he'd got so close. Silently he stalked closer, merging completely.

The darkness wasn't his soft, safe darkness and neither was it the harsh darkness he saw out of his window. It was different, he didn't hate it and he didn't love it, but he most certainly didn't trust it either. There was something there that he couldn't see, even with his keen sight, and while it wasn't threatening he didn't like the shudder that crept up his spine with it. He continued to walk through the shadows, painfully aware that he was standing out like a beacon, oh well, he thought, it was only a dream- a drug induced dream at that too.

"Helloooooo?" he called out into the shadows, taking full advantage of the fact no one was there to see him completely let down his guard. He spun on his heel as he walked and took a few paces backward before turning back around again once he saw nothing. Well, what an interesting dream, he mused bitterly as he took another glance at the darkness above him and the darkness below.

But it suddenly became a lot more interesting. He felt the shadows slowly and softly wrap their way around his waist, one branch wrapping around his hips and the other coming up to his chest, resting on his right side beneath his collar bone. He tensed up and shuddered, but for some reason didn't feel any need to force whatever it was off, he could almost admit that he was enjoying it. His stomach fluttered again, and he felt a small ball rise in his throat, and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end as he felt warm breath near his jugular.

"Hi," the darkness whispered back, the voice deep and husky as he felt himself pulled against a warm body. He shuddered again and his stomach did another flip, most of his blood now running in a particular direction that he didn't want to wake up with, and he swallowed hard as he forced down all of the lust that was bubbling in his gut.

"Stalk me in my dreams now, too?" he inquired mockingly, never letting his self-assured stance fail to show the urges that were plaguing him. His heart was beating like a steam engine in his chest- and he felt pretty sure that the hand that was now gently running its fingers along his torso was feeling it too. He shuddered again, and cursed himself.

"I don't see you complaining," The voice returned with a soft chuckle that made him want to sigh, and Draco held back a small whine as the skin on his neck tingled beneath a tantalising kiss that hardly touched him, yet touched everything at once. His eyes fluttered shut as another followed it and the hands around him drew him as close as he would go, scarcely a single part of his body free of the warmth of the other.

"I may if you don't show yourself," he replied after a few moments, and inwardly cursed as the lips parted from his neck until he felt the other's face hover inches from his skin in thought, his warm breath still tickling his neck. The hands on his chest and hip stopped moving and Draco stopped breathing for a few moments in the fear that they would leave all together.

Harry stopped what he was doing and parted slightly, letting his head hover over the creamy skin that was taunting him so. Should he really show himself, give away the one dream he'd loved in years? Well, maybe that was it- maybe it was just a dream. But, he couldn't help but wonder if it was more than just a dream, if it was received on both ends. Draco seemed so real here, more real than even the visions he had received only last year, and he couldn't bear the thought of it ending. But- Draco was smart enough to have realised who it was by his voice, by those shudders he'd seen him have, Draco was one of the smartest people he knew.

"You drive a hard bargain," he replied after a while in his sudden husky, lust filled voice, and closed his eyes as he once more felt the feel of an egg being cracked on his head as he moved his lips down once more, daring himself to steal one more.

…

Harry felt something thump him on the head and he sat up straight in his chair, blinking dozily, before bringing a hand up to rub at the back of his skull. "Ouch," he murmured, but swallowed hard and felt his stomach flip as his eyes flowed upwards to see his Transfiguration professor towering over him with a less than amused expression on her face.

…

Draco opened his eyes and squinted in the late afternoon sunlight as it streamed through his curtains and onto the pillow beside his face. He dozily looked around himself to see the wall of white curtains, the sound of emptiness and the chirp of birds out of his window, and felt his stomach drop. Great- it'd been a dream. He sighed and rolled onto his side, curling inside of the thin white sheets that wound around him and tangled in his legs, and he wondered just how much he'd moved while he was unconscious. But-

He arched a shaped eyebrow as he stared off focus at the curtains surrounding his bed, his heart suddenly beating a little faster and his breaths becoming short. It had been a dream- yes; he had dreamt it, that wasn't a problem. The problem was that the potion he had taken was specifically called 'dreamless sleep' and if his head of house was anything to go by, it would have been brewed correctly, therefore sending him into an unconscious state where his mind was completely at rest, and he didn't dream a thing. But he had.

And what a dream it'd been too. But, what could it mean? How could he have thought it up himself when he wasn't able, when he was knocked out completely, unable to muster the strength to even think under the affects of the potion? He frowned in thought, and felt his head beginning to hurt. It just wasn't possible; there was just no way that it could have happened. Draco took a deep breath and shook his head against the pillow, it hurt to think. But as he moved he felt his thick, greasy hair rub against the cotton, suddenly he became very aware of the sticky feeling he felt beneath his sheets, the dirty feel of skin on skin.

For the first time in Draco Malfoy's life, he was definitely unclean, and definitely in need of a shower. He grimaced as he untangled himself from the bedclothes, finding his school shirt ruffled and un-tucked, his tie hanging over his shoulder and his trousers sticking to him uncomfortably. He hated this feeling, the feel of having filth covering your skin, feeling the grease as you ran a hand through your hair, feeling the sticking of your clothes to your thighs as you swing your legs over the bed. It was repulsive, absolutely vile, and he felt his stomach churn as he gagged and grabbed the small pile of clean clothes that had been placed on the end of his bed, not caring what they were or who brought them, and padded quickly over to the small bathroom before anyone saw.

He felt like he was peeling an orange, the clothes clinging onto him with every last ounce of their dirty strength as he ripped them off himself, forever fighting with the urge not to throw up in disgust. Eight days- eight days sitting sweating in front of a fire, how the hell could he not have noticed before? Draco tugged forcefully at his tie as he tried to tear it from his neck; it felt like a noose, like he was lining up to have the death sentence, a smelly and vile creature with no more life to live. Finally he got it off, and gagged as he held back the vomit creeping up his throat before forcing it down and taking a few deep breaths, his own mind making his mild smell seem disgustingly potent.

The buttons on his shirt clung in the holes as though their lives depended on it, and as he fumbled at it forever aware of the hot steam hitting the side of his face from the warm, clean and inviting shower beside him he just wanted to throw himself in there clothed. He had never felt so vile before, he felt putrid, no better than a mangy dog. He let out a strangled cry as he reached the last button that refused to come undone, and ripped forcefully at either side of his shirt until the button popped off and rolled along the bathroom tiles.

He nearly leapt into the shower. Instead he jumped and knocked his shoulder against the wall in his desperate attempt to clean himself and winced, grumbling low in his throat as the steaming hot water ran down his eyelids, burning his stormy eyes beneath them. But the water, the water felt so clean, so pure. He sighed and let the burning liquid run down his torso, and he felt his heartbeat slow down as his shoulders un-knotted and he slumped against the wall in pleasure.

But as he let his hands rub over his skin, as he smelt the sweet perfumed scents of the shower potions he lathered into great masses of bubbly foam, his mind began to clear once more. He frowned and let the water drop off his eyelashes and creased his forehead in thought, absently running soapy circles on his chest. He had known the voice in his dream, and even though he had barely ever held a full conversation with the person in question, he seemed closer to him than anyone he had ever met before. It felt like there was a piece of him inside, a piece of his essence in his heart and mind that made him continuously aware, made him never forget.

And although the deep, silky, husky voice had been plagued with the lust and want as the person in question had shown before, he could instantly tell. It was like a certain scent, a certain taste that you can instantly name without question, and the taste he'd been given only made him want more. Harry Potter, the man with emerald eyes as deep as a thousand seas, the man whose breath still tingled his neck. Draco ran his fingers absently over his jugular as he recalled the strange shadowy arms that belonged to the Veela whose powers seemed infinite, and shuddered.

But one question still remained- how did he dream about him when he was physically unable? He frowned and wiped his face, feeling the suds running down his forehead and dripping off the end of his nose, the air so steamy it was becoming harder to breathe. Well Harry had already shown at least one new gift, the strange ability to merge into the darkness and sneak upon Draco when he least expected it- and there was the slightly troubling issue of the fact that Harry somehow managed to get him to the Hospital Wing and still look as right as rain after a beating hours earlier. But there were other possibilities with that- maybe it had been something to do with that strange room, maybe it'd provided some potions, or maybe he was healed before Draco woke. But this dream- this fantasy that was technically impossible, could it really have something to do with Potter?

Draco sighed into the spray and felt the water run into his mouth, and suddenly had a strange fantasy of his lips being put to much better use upon the thin, powerful lips of the Veela that had been pursuing him for weeks. Draco opened his eyes suddenly upon the throbbing of his blood suddenly changing direction, and quickly turned the shower on cold to cool himself down before his thoughts got out of hand.

It took him three shampoos, two conditionings and five vigorous all over body washes until he felt satisfied, the disgusting feeling of his skin being covered in grime banished to leave himself squeaky and tinged pink from the hot water. He sighed in content and slid out of the shower, his muscles feeling like jelly and his mind now lost from the troubling subjects that had plagued it before, feeling as light as a feather and completely refreshed. His body wasn't weak, the potions they had given him regenerating his body and building up his muscles, and his face was no longer gaunt- now almost as it was before.

He wrapped the small towel provided around his waist and bent down to inspect the clothes he'd been given, but as he picked them up he found his gaze drawn to the small note that fluttered to the floor. He raised his eyebrow and put his clothes on the small linen basket that he needed to put his school uniform in, and grabbed the towel firmly as he bent down and picked it up. It was very small, folded over once and it looked hurriedly ripped from a larger piece of parchment. In fact- it was _his _parchment. Draco absently sat down on the damp floor tiles and carefully unfolded it, before reading the hurried black scrawl upon it.

_Draco, _

_Nice clothes- shame you're not here to try them on for me. _

_H _

He felt his eyebrow quirk further and forced down the small wry smile that was tugging at the edge of his lip and threatening to undo the scowl he was trying to summon. He knew that he should feel outraged that Harry had been through his clothes in the first place, and even more so to his stupid cocky smart-arse comment, but he just couldn't. In fact, judging on the flutter in his chest and the flip of his stomach, one could even go as far as to say it was… charming. He grimaced and looked down at the note again, how in the name of Merlin was this smarmy bit of ripped parchment charming? But the effect on him, the way his heart beat faster at the compliment, and the thought of Harry actually _wanting _to see him model his clothes, made him insanely happy. He cleared his throat and tried to act as though he hadn't just thought that, but nonetheless folded the parchment and put it into the pocket of the clean trousers he was soon to put on. Well- it was about time someone noticed his expensive wardrobe, he thought to himself as he pulled on his boxers.

Oh crap… he looked down to see his silver Saturn underwear as he pulled them on; he hadn't meant his clothes in general- he'd meant. Oh Merlin… Draco put his head in his hands and groaned; he knew that it couldn't have just been the clothes he'd been talking about.

"Stupid Veela," he muttered as he pulled his black trousers over the top and did up the flies, safely tucking his underwear away and pushing back the strange thoughts that were plaguing his mind and making his stomach flutter. He reached out and pulled out the maroon shirt he hadn't worn in years, trust a bloody Gryffindor to choose red, he thought, and hurriedly did the buttons up before heaving himself up off the floor. His face was flushed in mild embarrassment as he fingered the note that was still in his pocket, and shook his head and pushed back the fluttering of butterflies madly trying to break out of his chest.

"Potter," he growled under his breath and swallowed the ball rising in his throat as he dumped his putrid clothes into the linen basket- where they disappeared on contact to be cleaned, and hurried from the bathroom. All he'd done since he'd first arrived at the damn school was cause Draco trouble, and from being unable to hate him, to not minding him, to liking him, he was now getting flushed at small and rather immature notes in the knowledge that he'd been through hisunderwear! And he couldn't even bring himself to feel violated! And now he was having impossible fantasies while he technically couldn't, he was being fondled under tables and he was teased into holding a conversation with the idiot while their faces were centimetres apart. All of this from being the one to bring a blush to the cheeks of the other, from being the one who loves you and leaves you and never drops his cool. He shook his head in disbelief and made his way over to the bed, only to have another surprise waiting for him.

He arched his eyebrow for what seemed like the hundredth time since he had awoken upon the sight of his magnificent eagle owl perched on the headboard of his crummy hospital bed. He looked so out of place, and by the way his amber eyes were glancing around the room, and the clicking of his beak, Draco could tell that he wasn't too happy about it. Upon feeling the brush of cool air that flushed against Draco's warm cheeks, his stormy eyes wandered until they came to rest on the open window, and strangely enough the window he hadn't noticed being open before. He let his arched eyebrow raise higher and shook his head before making his way over to his bed, seeing Zeus relax a little with the knowledge that he could leave sooner.

(A/N: sorry for interrupting, but I don't actually know what Draco's owl is called, so I decided to call it Zeus instead. I thought it fitting, but meh- sorry, carry on.)

Draco let his fast cooling fingers run through the eagle's feathers as he detached the formal envelope from the leg that his owl seemed very proud to hold for him. The soft feathers beneath his left hand made a stark contrast to the crisp cream paper, and Draco couldn't help but feel a wave of unease wash over him as he read his name in ornate green writing on the front. He couldn't place why he felt so suspicious of the innocent letter, but with the knowledge that no one would send him one was rather disconcerting.

It was only when he turned it over, feeling the sharp, threatening edges beneath his fingers as he made to break the green wax seal, did he know why he felt as he did. For imbedded in the wax with the print from a ring only one person would dare to wear, was a skull with a serpent protruding from its mouth.

The Dark Mark.

Draco's entire being was suddenly cast into an icy shell as he automatically rid his face of emotion but felt his heart beat faster in his chest and adrenalin run through his blood from the fear that enveloped him. His owl, Zeus, didn't notice his back straighten and his muscles tense as he flew through the open window silently, letting Draco's arm drop down to his side as he stayed as still as a statue, just staring. He was being summoned, the day he had dreaded for years had come upon him and there was no way he could run, and no way he could hide. He was going to become a Death Eater, he was going to burn and kill the innocent, he was going to fight for the dark, not the shadow he suddenly so wished to be swallowed by- those warm arms against his chest.

Up in the northeast tower, as he let the afternoon sun warm him from the open window, Harry Potter suddenly felt a wave of deathly cold. And the second that Draco disappeared without a sound from the hospital wing with a tug to his naval, Harry nearly felt his heart stop. Something terrible was about to happen, and he could do nothing about it.

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

And I _could _have been nice and continued on, making this chapter twice as long as I wrote bout Draco's initiation…

But then I thought 'hey- no one's ever accused me of being _nice! _So why the hell should I?'

So there, if you love me enough to wait you're worthy enough to read, so HAH!

Tee hee!

REPLIES!

Leïlia – I absolutely adore hearing about how you react, it really makes me feel happy about being able to make the stories seem real. Hope this chapter did as good!

aelistes – I TOTALLY AGREE! I was going to put 'woot- reached triple digits' like… a couple of chapters ago when I reached 100, and for some weird reason I didn't, so I decided to do it in this chapter. I have SO MANY! BUT! That doesn't mean I don't love every single one!

fifespice – I'll try and make Ron suffer some more just for the reviewers who hate him now! To answer your question- yeh, they're all jealous because he's getting absolutely everyone. And the healing- well that was another gift, self-healing. I'm trying to work them in like… merging them into the plot so it doesn't seem stupid when he suddenly exclaims 'WOW I HAVE SECRET POWERS' at random moments, lol.

dragondaughter – oh my god! This was so unexpected. Well- to start off with I'd like to thank all of my reviewers and… actually I don't have anyone else to thank because everyone I know laughs at me. Hah! Well, thanks to you peeps than kisses new shiny medal

WhiteDragonPriestezz – yes, I feel quite certain that Harry could think of many things to do while Draco's tied up…yeh, I agree, I love that word too- but thank god for spell check because I would have drawn a complete blank otherwise!

HecateDeMort – 5!

Hidaka Akiko – good to know I'm making it interesting, but I hope you get better! Yeh, I guess I can see what you thought, but I read them and thought I HAVE TO WRITE MY OWN but I needed to change something- you know, make it different. And TA DAA! Absolutely adore your little humour moment, and I'm glad you're spreading the word to random people in dark alleyways! Lol! Keep it up!

soph – oh dear! I can't believe you put this over your education, tisk tisk tisk! Lol! I know how you feel though, once I start reading I get hooked! Hope you did okay on it thought!

Phorcys – aw! You don't have to be witty love, the review's all I need!

Chailyn Cole Runewood – wow… just, wow… I'm a little confused by the transparency thing but the genuine compliment about my writing skills really touched, cheers!

kt – I may have to watch that movie, lol!

Kilikapele – wow! But I bet your only saying that cos it's the most action they've gotten yet. I really am dragging it out, aren't I. Meh, it works! Keep reading!

Danish Pastry 28 – well, my unforgivable lateness for this chapter will probably answer that question for you. When I'm on a roll they're all really quick updates, but sometimes I struggle because I can't get in the right feel and stuff…

Natasha AKA Tash – sorry, but not much progress is there? Don't worry, you won't have to wait too long.

firefairy42 – lol, I was blonde originally but I turned brunette so the second I suppose. Norman… lol, yes there will be more to come, hope you do well studying for the GSCE's, I can't believe your reading this and wasting valuable study time!

Alea – awwwwwww! Me luv's dreamy smiles me's do!

Shakespeares Whore – ah yes, I've had chocolate and medals and everything! But no one else gives BAKED goods the way that you do! Mmm… yummy! There ya go, another chapter, hope you like it!

SilverDragonWings – ah, it's not cowardly, it's Slytherin tact that is… I should know, I took 23 different tests and I still can't find out which house I'm in, it's torn between Slytherin and Gryffindor! Gar! Yes, I was very bored, don't blame me…YAY SWEEETS!

triola – yeh, the best part of the hunt is in the chase, I totally agree. And even though realistically this is a little quick to fall in love, it's stupid the stories that are all like 'OH MY GOD I'VE JUST MET YOU I LOVE YOU' so… yeh. Enjoy!

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNNNNNNNNNDDDDDDDDDDDD…

Many thanks to nljfs, Beth5572, bunk64, firestarter99, RisuMusume and Makalani Astral!


	11. the dark mark cont

_Don't make the same mistake your father made. _

Those eight words, those eight terrible words may as well have been his death sentence, and it hadn't taken a genius to work out that they were also the activation code to the portkey. The moment that the last whispered syllable escaped his lips Draco felt the tug to his naval and felt a new wave of icy dread run through him.

This was really it-

The moment he'd been dreading for years had finally come upon him, the moment he'd lain awake thinking about and had been tortured because he was against. His father had made every effort to keep his son in line, and had that meant using _crucio_ on Draco when he refused so be it. And now as he watched the blurred colours rush past him and felt his clothes flattening against his skin, he wished he were dead. As the colours began to merge and voices whispered in his ears, he knew that there was no escape.

His feet hit the ground with a soft thump that sent shock running up his legs, despite him bending his knees to take the force, his heart drumming at a sickening speed and his stomach twisting and knotting itself as though being squeezed in a fist. However as he straightened back up there was no sign of his fear, of the waves of terrifying fright passing through his soul, not a whisper of his intentions of running for his life. Instead there stood a confident young man, his chest out and eyes keen and bright, a small scowl sloping on his eyebrows as he scoured the people around him.

But Harry felt it- he felt every heartbeat rip at his chest, he felt the blind panic gushing through him as he sunk to his knees and curled up on his common room floor, so alone, so desperately frightened. But they were not his emotions, his emotions had left with the blonde, his love, hate and desire had been replaced by all of the frightening thoughts, the flashbacks of pain from the Cruciatus curse, everything that Draco kept locked tight flooded through him and he felt so helpless.

Draco had already switched on his special place; he'd already rid himself to think of nothing, not even the Veela whose arms he wanted wrapped around him that moment. He was a void- empty, a hollow soul.

He was in a large clearing, trees spreading out as far as he could see, surrounding him with trunks so large and branches spreading so far that it blocked out all light, almost like a black wall of shadows. He felt so isolated, as though wrought iron bars had replaced those trees, giving him no escape, nowhere to run. The greying bark looked dead, rotting and peeling like flesh from the bone but the colour of ash- charred remains. He felt sick again, but his mask never slipped once. Even the damp grass underfoot reminded him of bodies, hundreds upon thousands of dying and dead in battle- where his life would end without a doubt.

Draco's stormy grey-blue eyes, that could be filled with so much emotion it astounds people, could sparkle, could cry, were empty as he brought them down to be drawn into the blood red eyes that shone out from 100 feet away. Those eyes- he felt ill again as the smell of blood wafted from his feet with their colour, and he didn't even feel as Voldemort began to search his mind- only to be stopped in his tracks.

Voldemort's hairless eyebrow rose a little in thought as he stared into those mercury pools, the eyes that showed nothing of what the boy was thinking. In the past week, he had initiated over 30 junior Death Eaters from England and other parts of the world, and from reactions of pleasure, excitement and glee to terror so deep it was satisfying to see, he had never set his eyes upon one who could block everything so well. Instinctively he let his mind reel as he tried to open the boy by using Legilimency- only to reach the strangest thing he'd ever encountered. A void- dark and bleak, with no way of knowing what lay beyond it as it seemed endless. He pulled out abruptly and let a small smile curl the edge of his lip as he watched the boy with mild curiosity as he approached.

Draco- the only natural Occlumens he'd seen since Nicholas Flamel, strange seeing as his father had been such an idiot. His smile grew- yes, he'd have great plans for this boy, whatever Draco truly thought about it.

He kept his back straight and his strides purposeful and confident as he approached the Dark Lord, the person he hated more than anything he had ever experienced. He felt sick, and the terror that was throbbing in his rib cage was making him feel nauseous, but nothing he did gave it away. His face stayed devoid of emotion, hard and stony, his body was erect, and although his muscles were tensed it didn't look as though he were fearful. And he knew that the Dark Lord loved it, he loved seeing promise, the thought that he had another great Death Eater on his side instead of the idiots he currently had.

He felt like he was boiling alive, he was so cold his skin was bubbling and bursting, and his insides squirmed for escape, his heart beat boiling blood through his veins. He felt so angry- a white hot anger towards the man who had ruined so many lives, including his own, the sight of what his father had become, what he was to become. He felt sad, sad that his life was ending, that he was going to die whether the Dark won or not, and if the slim chance that he lived occurred he would be a hollow man, haunted by the things he would do. He was terrified, terrified of death and life at once, wishing not to die and or to stay alive either, and terrified of those blood red eyes and the stench that filled his head and made it swim.

But what had more impact on him than any of those was the sudden wave of solitude that made him feel so alone. He felt as though a part of his being had been ripped out of his chest, like he had just seen his own heart take its last few beats before his eyes. His feet carried him numbly as he felt the waves of hate and power ripple through the air, and his heart clenched painfully. He really was alone; there was no-one, nothing. It was all dark or light, black or white, and he had chosen a side. He had chosen the darkness- the cold, bleak, black life filled with the stench of death and decay and the screams of others.

A cold wind bit at his skin as the bitter weather lingered in the air and made his skin bristle, the hairs on his arms standing on end beneath his shirt- his blood red shirt. He felt the bile creep up his throat and discreetly swallowed it back down, ignoring his taste buds as they felt the bitter acid of his stomach. His heart felt the size of a bludger, hammering against his ribs until he could almost swear he heard them crack, the blood running through his veins until they glowed royal blue. The bones in his legs seemed almost non-existent, he felt as though he was going to fall flat on his face at any moment into the ground that smelled like blood, but he forced himself onward.

He came to stop mere feet before the Dark Lord- his black throne jarring a spiking as though it had been unleashed from Hell itself, and his eyes and chalky skin- the face that was hardly human. This _thing_ preached about purebloods- about ridding the world of the non-magical and he was barely a man himself.

"My Lord," he muttered, the words tasting bitter in his mouth, as they turned to ash on his tongue- drained of all life and emotion to leave the simple sounds rumbling from his voice box and falling like liquid from his lips. His muscles screamed for him to stop as he lowered his head to a bow, his spine curling as though he were being crippled below the other man, beneath him. And even as he straightened himself again his eyes were still the last to come up to meet the creature before him. He could feel the other Death Eaters masked faces burning into him like red-hot brands, assessing him, marking him.

And it was in that moment that he wished for one thing only- to be protected from the fate that lined his way, from the life that he was now destined to live.

And it was in that moment, that in a tasteful room somewhere in Scotland, that a raven haired, green-eyed boy wanted to be that protector. He wanted to save Draco, he wanted to save him so badly it hurt him and yet he could do nothing. Nothing, the word sounded like death to his ears as he ran out onto the grounds to be absorbed into the night- so terribly alone.

"Draco, I've been expecting you," Voldemort hissed as Draco tried to hold his gaze a moment longer, every second that passed seeming like an eternity as the hate he saw in those scarlet pools clung to him like claws sinking into his flesh. Once more he lowered his head, but thought it best to say nothing as he stewed in the raging emotions he held back beneath his shell. The grass beneath his feet seemed dull and lifeless in the shadow of Voldemort's towering throne, it looked withered and old, worthless. His heart made another thwack at his ribs and he felt the shock ripple through his body, but no one could tell.

"Look into my eyessss, child," every syllable like a knife to his flesh as Draco brought his eyes to look into those of the man he was soon to call his master. The word child sent a chill to creep throughout his body and prick his skin, as though he were in fact something for this man to call his own, no- this monster. But Draco made himself feel nothing- and as his beautiful eyes met with the ugly, vile eyes of the other, they were cold.

"Tell me, what do you want?" Voldemort asked, the same question he had asked every other teenager and had reached almost the exact answer with all of them. What was his ambition, what was he willing to do, what did he want to come from this. Of course with Draco he would be marked whether he cursed the very air he breathed, he was far too valuable to lose to the light. Another rush of cold sped between them, and Voldemort watched with pleasure as neither of them noticed, Draco's thin maroon shirt rippling like water and letting in every wisp of wind.

Draco had his answer on the end of his tongue the second that Voldemort asked it. I want you to die a very painful death at the hands of Harry Potter, I want you to be damned to an eternal sentence of your worst nightmares, plagued with forks of fire and burnt to a crisp over and over again. I want to see that ghastly head of yours on a stake and the rest of you strewn somewhere I don't have to see again. I want you to suffer the same deaths as everyone you've ever killed, and I want your magic to be taken away, to become a squib- the very thing you are fighting against. But Draco wasn't stupid, and however much he wished to die he didn't wish it that much.

"My only wish is to serve you until my dying breath, my Lord," he said with an empty voice, his words just sounds, bitter like the wind, but as flat as the ground he stood upon. Voldemort seemed impressed, once more his lipless mouth curled into the closest he could get to a smile, and once more Draco felt nauseous.

"Then you sssshall be Marked," he hissed, and Draco felt the fist around his gut squeeze with all of his might and he felt his throat burn. As Voldemort stood upon his throne and descended to the grass below, Draco lowered onto one of his knees and began to unbutton his cuff, feeling as though he were about to have his head cut off. Everything seemed to slow down, the wind that whipped at his hair moved as though it were the consistency of syrup, and with every second that drew on, the veins on his arms turned bluer and his blood pumped faster. The terror boiling on his insides raged like wildfire, he felt as though he'd just drunk poison.

He folded his sleeve over once, his eyes sending images of meat in the place of the silk, and the smell of rotting flesh wafted up to his face and his head spun. He ignored it and folded it a second time, Voldemort's black robes dominating his vision as he tried to delay it for all he was worth and folded it again. With every new bit of skin that was exposed he felt more and more helpless, he became more and more aware of the fate he was destined for, the life he was going to live. The killing, the death, following, giving his life, it all seemed so petty in the big picture, but it dominated his existence, he felt ill.

And as he pushed up the last of his sleeve he knew that it was all too late- he was never going to live a normal life again. Draco felt another of his ribs throb with his quick heartbeat as he handed over his arm, and as those chalky bony fingers wrapped around his wrist and gave his arm an impatient tug, he thought he would throw up. The burning inside his chest was almost unbearable, and his arm went limp beneath the freezing, dead hands of his soon to be master. Voldemort let his wand hover over his skin, taunting him.

Draco kept his eyes on the skin of his arm, the creamy living flesh in the hands of these white hands that seemed like spiders- deadly. Voldemort's wand skirted across his skin as he found the right place, but somehow he knew that the Dark Lord's bloody eyes were on him.

"_Morsmordre_," Voldemort hissed as his wand stopped its movement, and Draco stopped breathing. Suddenly a pain like he had never felt before enveloped him, his arm felt like it was being torn away from his body and he bit the sides of his cheeks and clenched his fists so hard that his hands shook within the Dark Lord's grip. He forced himself not to scream as the pain tore through his flesh a thousand times worse than he had ever felt before, but soon his voice box was burning. He let a small cry flow from his mouth just seconds before the pain stopped and his muscles turned to jelly as he slumped forward, but for some reason Voldemort hadn't let go.

"What iss thisss?" Voldemort demanded, jerking at his arm and making him wince as he brought his head upward to take a look at his mark. Of all the things that should have shocked him so far, he was completely unprepared for what he saw. His arm was bright red and burnt where the mark should have been, the skin around it pink and raw, but there was no mark. He couldn't help but let his mouth crack open a little in surprise as new emotion began flooding through him like liquid gold, like a healing potion.

Hope, hope that there may be another way, a hope that meant he might not have to become his father and live a life in which he wished he could do anything but live. Relief, relief that the pain he had gone through was worth it, because he wasn't his servant, he wasn't marked. He wouldn't be arrested on sight if the mark was seen and he wouldn't have to kill people who didn't deserve to die. And more to the point- sheer astonishment. How could the Dark Mark not have worked? It was a dark spell designed by the Dark Lord himself, it had always worked before then and it was extremely powerful.

"What iss thisss?" the dark lord hissed louder and jabbed his wand into the burn. Draco's jaw twitched in pain but he showed nothing else as he tried to calm himself of the shock. Draco felt another wave of dread with the knowledge that he was still at Voldemort's mercy, in the hands of the most evil wizard in the world.

"I don't know," he said, looking up into the enraged eyes of Voldemort, the grip on his arm tightening painfully and his hand began turning numb. "I have no idea, I don't know why it won't-" his words were cut off as Voldemort cast the spell again, and once more he only just managed to bite his cheeks before he let a cry escape his lips. Blood swept over his tongue as he bit into his own flesh but he barely noticed it over the intense pain flooding his senses.

He felt as though he was being burned alive from the inside out, and that his arm was being ripped apart by flesh eating beetles. The firm grip around his wrist- those dead spidery fingers that were wrapped around his arm like claws digging into his skin were the only things keeping him from ripping his arm away in pain. His eyes stung and pricked with tears that threatened to form, but he bit harder into his cheek and clenched his fist so hard that warm blood began to pool beneath his fingers.

Voldemort held the spell longer than he had ever done before- but as the seconds passed he stared at the tip of his wand; it began to form the mark, but then it just disappeared and faded, and he grew more and more angry. But he knew he'd need to lift the spell- he'd have to figure out another way of branding Draco as his own, because whatever magic had been cast to keep the mark off seemed too powerful to break. He had specifically designed his spell to be too powerful to override, to be too strong to remove or even tamper with, but now he'd come to face a boy that it wouldn't even imprint.

But as Draco's skin began to bubble he let a low growl escape his throat as he threw the boy aside. Draco was barely aware of what had happened, the pain had fogged his mind and he was having trouble thinking. The throbbing that spread throughout his arm, the stinging of the skin that was now blistered and singed was too much, it lingered and hurt in more ways than he was used to. Draco pushed himself up onto his knees and cradled his arm for a moment, screwing up his eyes, gasping for breath. The feelings he had felt before were now replaced by pain and panic, and he wasn't sure which ones he preferred.

Suddenly he felt someone grab the scruff of his fine silk top, and he heard the material rip as he was hoisted to his feet, his knees barely supporting his weight, but he forced himself to look up and let his arm drop. His stormy eyes were clouded in pain, and still he managed to keep his face blank, only the small trail of blood from his deathly pale lips and the firm hands of the Death Eaters on either side of him any indication that he was hurt at all.

Voldemort brought Draco's face up with one finger in a swift movement, and Draco's eyes came to stare into the enraged fiery pools of the Dark Lord's. Once more he felt afraid. Voldemort's face was contorted in fury and before Draco could contemplate what was happening, Voldemort had grabbed his injured arm and pulled it out between them. Draco felt Voldemort's fingers sink into his skin and his jaw twitched again as he looked away in fear of what punishment he would get if he defied in the slightest.

Fear, once again his heart turned into a bludger as it crushed against his ribs and his gut twisted painfully- all shred of relief banished with a new wave of dread for the consequences that would no doubt follow his strike of dumb luck. It wasn't that Voldemort wanted him that badly, it was that Voldemort had now shown fault, shown that he wasn't infallible. Draco inwardly squirmed as he felt Voldemort inch closer and he could feel the rage come off him like a foul stench and his gut wrenched and his blood boiled in his veins.

"Thiss is not over- I will see you sssooner than you think," he hissed and Draco felt his cold breath hit his face making him want to vomit, but instead he kept his eyes lowered and nodded, wincing as Voldemort threw his arm away again. His pulse was racing and his arm was hurting him badly but once more he tried to straighten up and show confidence, but he was now treading a thin line between confidence and arrogance.

He caught one last look of the wall of shadowy trees and the pale light that hit the side of Voldemort's icy features before something was thrown roughly into his hand and he felt another pull to his naval. His stomach gurgled and he felt a ball rise in his throat, but his muscles relaxed a little and he couldn't help but feel relieved as the colours rushed past him and he knew he'd lived to see another day of freedom.

…

Harry sat by the tree that his father and friends had sat beneath years below, and stared out onto the lake, watching the water shimmer with the setting sun. But even though he was looking at it he wasn't seeing it, his mind was elsewhere. He was lost in a sea of despair and horror, of pain and panic, that were both his own and not, consuming him and eating at his insides like a cancerous disease. The time that had passed seemed like hours, from when he had gone to the Hospital Wing to find the bed empty, to running into the grounds in blind panic, fear for the one he loved and fear from something he wasn't even experiencing.

But suddenly he felt something very strange, like a piece of himself had just been put back to place, like a missing piece of a jigsaw puzzle. He raised an eyebrow and peered around, letting the glare off the water sting his eyes as his hope began to drop, and he saw nothing. He sighed and leant back against the tree, but as he heard a small thud and the ruffle of leaves from the bushes at the entrance of the forest, he had sprung to his feet before he could think otherwise.

Draco felt his knees buckle beneath him as he hit the ground and slumped forward, feeling a metallic tang to his mouth from the blood that covered his tongue. But even though the pain throbbed through his burnt skin and the horrors that lay ahead of him were still there, he couldn't help but sigh in relief as he rolled onto his back and thanked every god in existence that he was still alive- still free.

He was lying in soil between the stems of bushes that seemed to surround him, and the trunks of two huge trees on either side of his body. The smells of pine and decaying leaf litter purged the fetid stench of death that had filled his head, and he closed his eyes and smiled, wishing the moment wouldn't end. He placed his injured arm delicately over his chest and let the other one take in the feel of the leaves and the earth beneath him as he sighed in content.

He had been given another chance- whatever fate was leading him had showed mercy and had given him more time- more time to find a way to get out of the mess that was his life. He took a handful of dirt and let it run through his fingers, barely aware of the small half moon cuts that littered his palms.

"Draco?"

Draco cracked open his eyes and winced as he tried to push himself up a bit to see the speaker- most likely to tell them to bog off and leave him in his moment of serenity. His arm ached as he bent forward and placed his other elbow beneath him and in the damp earth, but as his eyes followed upward past the school robes to see the broad shoulders and finally face, all thoughts of telling them to bog off were abandoned.

Harry's face was hard to see against the pink sunlight from the setting sun over the lake, he was silhouetted against a shining outline and for a moment he wondered if he'd done that strange trick again. But slowly the figure bent down into the shadows of the trees where Draco lay, and he knew that he wasn't. His emerald eyes shone brightly against the surroundings, his handsome face lighting up the dread of Draco's evening as he swept the raven hair from his eyes. Draco watched as Harry's eyes skirted over him where he lay and he felt his stomach flutter- a much more welcoming experience form the gut wrenching pain and fear he had experienced earlier.

"You're hurt," Harry pointed out, his voice filled with pain and his eyes sad as he shuffled further and gently took the arm from Draco's chest. Draco shuddered happily and let a small smile curl the edge of his lip, too happy to care that he let down his guard, too relieved to care about much really. He winced as Harry gently turned his arm over, and felt a little bubble of warmth well up inside of him as Harry let out a small gasp; he cared.

Slowly the brunette lowered himself beside the blonde who was still propped up and looking at him with interest, but he held onto his arm as delicately as he could, while he looked in horror at what he saw. Draco's gentle, soft skin was like satin beneath his fingers, it was creamy and pure and delicate, and it twisted his heart to see the injury on something to perfect. There were scratches along his wrist from where someone had grabbed him and his own palms were bloody with small half moons from where he'd clenched his fists hard enough to draw blood. But as his eyes moved up towards his elbow he frowned and felt his gut churn as he saw the place where he knew the Dark Mark should now be.

His skin was bubbled and burnt with blisters erupting from charred skin, the surrounding skin red raw or bruised. He let his fingers brush over the surface, scarcely even touching, and frowned to himself. He gently uncurled his fingers and felt a wave of pleasure tingle his skin as Draco let him, letting his fingers be manipulated as Harry took a closer look.

Draco shivered under the light touch and closed his eyes, the throbbing from his wounds unimportant to the strange, happy feelings that were pushing into his mind. Voldemort, the Mark, it was all forgotten to the tingling of his skin as he curled his toes and let a small smile tug at his lip, feeling the brushing of Harry's fingers on his unharmed skin as he was looked after- cared for. The decaying leaves beneath him cushioned him nicely, and for the first time in weeks he felt comfortable, even if he was still in pain.

"Does it hurt?" he muttered, and Draco curled his lip in return. Harry let his fingers run around the wounds and his fingers twitched with the feeling and Draco felt himself shift a little in the dirt, moving himself a little closer as he did so. Harry felt his heart throb as he ran his fingers over the skin that had been placed in his hands, the arm of the person who wasn't pulling away. His stomach fluttered as he felt the other shift a little closer but kept his eyes on the arm, however much it tempted him to lose himself in the stormy depths of Draco's eyes.

"_Terribly_," Draco whispered, letting himself smirk as Harry gave him a worried side glance before catching on. Draco felt his head go a little lighter, as everything else seemed to vanish to leave only the two of them, alone. He shifted his hips in the mud until they were almost touching and felt a wave of heat pass through him as he saw the edge of Harry's lip curl just as his was, although his eyes were still on his burnt skin.

Perhaps it had been because of the shock, the drastic change between something so terrible to something nice that made Draco change his approach. Or maybe it was the fear that it may be the only time he'd be able to do it, that the next time Voldemort tracked him down, he'd lose every chance he had of this moment again. Being alone, having his cares vanish as though they were completely unimportant, it was bliss. But the real reason was that the moment he'd opened his eyes and seen the person standing above him, that missing part of his heart, his soul that had vanished as he took his last walk of freedom returned.

"Terribly," Harry muttered, giving him a glance as he tried to control himself as he brushed his fingers over the same skin again. "That's a lot," he mused and he could feel the blonde looking over at him, those stormy eyes seeming to warm his skin in under their gaze. He hid his smile beneath his hair and felt his stomach do a flip as his pulse rose and blood gushed adrenalin around his body.

Slowly, in movements that seemed so natural yet were completely spontaneous, Harry brought his green eyes back up to the Slytherin's, and green and grey locked together like magnets. Without looking at what he was doing, concentrating on those pale lips that he wanted to plant his own upon, his skin, everything about him, he began to lean over as he laid Draco's arm back over his chest.

"You'll need some medical attention," he muttered as he began to lean over slowly, his eyes never leaving those grey pools that had swallowed him whole, which glistened in the light of the setting sun like diamonds. Their bodies brushed and touched and both felt the tingles run down their spine as Harry slowly placed his leg over Draco and onto the damp ground below.

"Mm, I need attention," Draco agreed absently, unable to rid the smile from his face as his blood began to warm in his veins and his heart beat comfortably in contrast to the pain he had felt before. He felt Harry slide his leg over his; feeling the warmth of the body against his own and he shuddered as he saw the green eyes sink ever closer. Harry sat lightly on Draco's stomach, one arm to the left of his face as he slowly sunk a little lower; Draco's smile growing as his heart beat faster and he felt his skin warm- forgetting about the pain.

"Want me to- kiss it better?" Harry muttered, and Draco felt his insides explode sending a ripple to brush along every part of his body like a feather and he felt a shudder creep up his spine. He brought one leg up a little as Harry sunk lower still, those eyes so alluring he wanted to stare into them forever.

"Mm," Draco agreed when they were only inches apart, and Harry smirked causing Draco's skin to crawl before he swooped down and brushed his lips against those beneath him. A rush of pleasure swept through Draco like the rush of a drug as he moaned and pushed up a little to push into the kiss, deepening it as he felt the Veela's tongue slide into his mouth to be met by his own. He felt about ready to burst, but was unable to do more with the arm that held him up and the injured one on his chest that he had so far forgotten about.

And suddenly nothing else mattered, he forgot about everything without needing to force himself to, as he felt the cool fingers slide between the buttons of his shirt and they popped undone easily. His elbow began to weaken as he pressed his lips against the other's hungrily, letting the tongue explore his mouth and taste the metallic blood that had seeped from his cheek. Slowly he let himself sink down, unwilling to break away even as he began to feel the lack of oxygen burn his lungs, in fact it was the brunette who tore his lips away letting Draco moan with his loss.

Harry smirked, feeling the pleasure of something filling his heart like he had never felt before, like he was becoming whole for the first time in his life. He looked down to see Draco pout wonderfully, his lips moist and pink with grey stormy eyes filled with passion and desire.

"Bastard," Draco muttered and Harry let one last smile curl his lip before he sunk down until Draco was flat against the earth and pressed their mouths together, planting kisses on the edge of his lips and pulling away before Draco could do anything about it. Draco growled low in his throat and Harry smiled against his lips as he broke away and moved down toward his neck, feeling a wave of pleasure that came with the small gasp he got in return as he nipped Draco's collar bone.

Small tantalising kisses, just like in his dream. And now he was living the dream, living the fantasy, and it was every bit as exciting as he had hoped. Draco arched his back to distract the other who brought his head up momentarily and locked his lips against the other's powerful mouth before he could pull away. He let his tongue skirt over his lips until they opened up for him, letting him nip at his bottom lip playfully. Harry moaned against his lips and it was his turn to smirk as he pressed against them and lost himself in the moment, never wishing for it to end.

For the first time- nothing else mattered.


	12. Icy and Beautiful

The sun had almost disappeared over the lake, the sky basked in reds but merging into the deep blue of night, the small twinkling stars beginning to show in the dark sky above. Thick, wispy clouds floated across the blue canopy lazily, and the cloud cover cast coldness over the darkening night, a small chill biting at the air. The grounds of Hogwarts began to collect shadows, and the Forbidden Forest seemed like a wall of darkness in the shadow of the castle, every trunk blocking out what little light there was left.

Hagrid drew his moleskin coat closer and gripped his crossbow tightly as he walked through the forest in the light of a large gas lamp, small in his hands. Fang kept a few paces ahead and continuously stopped to sniff at different bushes before continuing, and Hagrid kept himself alert to anything that seemed out of place. He was still a little more cautious than usual after the centaurs cast him their warnings and threatened to take action, but it wasn't the centaurs that were bothering him that evening. No- it was the cry he had heard only minutes earlier from somewhere in the vicinity, a cry for what he thought was mercy or pain.

His beetle black eyes ran over the trees, but his mind was whirring with thoughts of what could have gotten a passing student. There were werewolves, the arachnids, ghosts and ghouls and monsters that he daren't even think of, and had any one of them got their teeth into a student there would be little hope left. His heart was drumming in fear for whoever it was, as the silence that carried through the trees seemed deafening and frightening, leaving so many questions in its wake. His large form shuddered as another cold breeze nipped at his skin and he tightened his coat around him further- there was something out there, he was sure of it.

However, not too far away, two people were oblivious to the cold.

Draco bit his tongue to muffle that cry that was to escape his lips as he arched his back, pleasure shooting through every nerve of his hot body. Sweat glistened upon his bare chest, his shirt undone and hanging limply from his arms as his muscles tensed and relaxed as he curled his toes and let his fingers sink into the soil that now encrusted his fingertips. He was freezing; he could feel the goose bumps flourishing on his arms and chest, but at the same time he was burning. His arm was throbbing painfully, but the blood in his veins was pumping magma that he could hear pounding in his ears and he quickly forgot about the pain. Before he could hold it back, another small cry had fallen from his mouth as he felt Harry's teeth wrap around him and give a small tug, and he instinctively raised his hips to meet him.

His heart was beating so fast that once more it was almost painful, but the pleasure that pumped around his blood made the pain welcome. The soil in his golden hair and beneath his nails was insignificant, and his gut was flipping like a pancake. He curled his toes again with the tongue that seemed to know exactly what to do, but felt his eyes open and moaned as slowly the warmth disappeared as Harry crept back up his body.

"Don't stop", he whispered hoarsely as he felt the hands slide up his chest, Harry's mouth planting small kisses in their path. He moaned quietly as his stomach fluttered with the sight of those lusty, sparkling emerald eyes before they swooped down hungrily and their lips connected. Their tongues worked together and he could taste himself, but his eyes opened as Harry tore his lips away and looked around.

"Did you hear that?" he whispered, and Draco cursed under his breath as the heat of the moment began to fade. Harry lay on top of him, their hips were pressing against each other's, and he could feel everything melting away. He cursed again as his lusty eyes skirted over the boy above him and before he could contemplate what he was doing he had wrapped his good arm around Harry's waist and rolled him onto his back.

Harry gasped in surprise as he felt Draco's leg move over him as he brought himself up to straddle him, a mischievous glint in his beautiful eyes and a small smile playing at his lips. He felt the passion well inside of his chest as the blood began pumping faster and he watched with pleasure as Draco lowered himself until their lips were barely apart, so that he could feel their warm steamy breath intertwining in the bitter night air.

"I didn't hear a thing," Draco muttered and he felt their lips brush as he spoke, and Draco smirked once more before lowered himself completely and pressed himself against him. Harry felt his core explode and murmured a weak protest against Draco's lips but soon became far too absorbed to try, and his own jaw began working as he felt a cold hand slide down his chest, further and further.

He moaned against Draco and felt the other smirk in return as the fingers disappeared beneath the top of Harry's trousers and Harry felt himself throb. Draco's mouth was the only thing stopping him from making more noise, the tongue the ran over the roof of his mouth and the hand on the side of his face sending shivers to run down him as he lifted his hips and felt his cheeks burning.

He couldn't believe this was finally happening, he couldn't believe that Draco had finally given in, that he finally had Draco all to himself. No more heartache as he stared longingly at him, no more teasing with the way that Draco walked and talked that made him just want to eat him alive. Draco was his, all his, no one else's. His stomach fluttered again as he felt the cold fingers meandered and his eyes fluttered beneath closed lids and he moaned quietly against his warm, silky lips.

"'O goes there!"

Draco's hand stopped dead still where it was and his eyes snapped open as he ever so slowly brought his lips off Harry's until they were hovering slightly above, their harsh breathing and the fast fearful beating of their hearts the only noise that they made.

"I know you're out there! Come out where I can see ya!" Hagrid bellowed at the 'beast' who had one of the students, his crossbow aimed at the bushes as Fang approached cautiously.

Hagrid, the beast of a man with his damned dog was pointing his damned bow at him, and he was lying in a bush. Draco couldn't hold it in any longer, suddenly and unexpectedly he buried his face in the crook of Harry's neck and began sniggering quietly, his eyes pricking with laughter at the sheer irony of their situation. He was lying on top of the-boy-who-lived, the most hunted young man in England and possibly the world, laughing into his chest. His trousers were undone, his shirt was hanging open, he had a hard on, he was dirty and injured. Oh- and not to mention he had his hand down the saviour's trousers. He snorted rather loudly and pressed his forehead against Harry's neck as he slowly brought his hands up from his trousers as he reached up to zip up his flies and make himself slightly more presentable.

Harry looked down his nose, his heart beating fast in fear of being caught but the passion of the moment burning with desire, and raised his eyebrow. Draco was quietly sniggering into his chest, and in the most inappropriate moment. He felt his lip begin to twitch as he tried to hide his own hysterical laughter and his eyes began to water as he felt his cheeks begin to burn. He didn't even know why he was laughing, it was a stupid time to laugh and for stupid reasons, but the way that Draco's laughter poured and muffled onto his chest like a lark's song, it was just compelling and he felt that he had to join.

Then it struck him- this was the first true laugh he had ever heard Draco give. In fact he wouldn't be surprised if this was the first real laugh anyone had heard Draco give, his usual harsh exterior blocking out all emotion- icy and beautiful. Happiness welled up inside of him as he breathed raggedly, feeling the passion burn in his chest while he looked down at the beauty above him.

His bleach blonde hair was encrusted with dirt and it fell over his forehead, clinging to the sweat on his brow. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were alight with desire, but he looked beautiful whatever he did. And he was smiling, laughing, his white perfect teeth flashed as he tried to smother his amusement. His body was lean and athletic, his skin hot and silky and muscles firm beneath his grip. Perfect, absolutely perfect- and he didn't know what he had done to deserve it.

Draco felt so- sordid. He felt as though he was sinning, and it was bliss. His heart began to race again and his stormy eyes lit up with a new desire as he quietly lifted his head from the warm, damp muscular chest. Harry's eyes met his and Draco held the gaze, daring him to make any noise or any sound while they were in such danger of being caught. The emerald eyes were sparkling with mirth and anticipation, those wonderful bruised, moist lips in a small smile while he breathed erratically. But Harry made no move, and Draco let a small smile curl to the edge of his lip as he watched Harry's cute confused expression as he began leaning forward until their lips were nearly touching.

Harry's emerald eyes never seemed to dull, did they. They were lying in the shadows as night drew in and still they sparkled like the stars. His face was handsome and rugged, his hair curling with the moisture as he smiled and breathed harshly. His body was broader than his own, not as lean, but was the most wonderful thing he had ever laid his eyes upon. There were dirty handprints on either of his cheeks like war paint from his muddy hands and streaks along his torso, but Harry seemed to suit the situation quite nicely.

"Time for your party trick," he whispered against his lips, and gave him a swift kiss as he lifted his hips and slipped his hand into the pocket of his expensive and now probably very ruined trousers to retrieve his wand. Harry opened his eyes as he broke away with a lusty expression and watched with curiosity as Draco brought his wand up to his golden blonde hair and tapped himself three times.

"_Quandro invisibus_," and he was gone.

Harry gasped as a pair of invisible lips connected with his own and he felt his heart rate pick up to frightening speeds. Those lips- they felt like silk, the lips that rose petals would weep with envy over. They were swollen and wet and they locked with his own as he met them, they moved with such passion and liquid grace that he felt as though he was being touched by an angel.

But this was so wrong. Hagrid, his friend since he'd been rescued from the Dursley's 5 years ago, was standing a few feet away with a bow, thinking that it was a student being attacked. And here he was, having his breaths kissed out of his lips by the pillar of perfection, the apple of his eye, the key to his heart, Draco Malfoy. The lips broke away and he felt the body move to the side a little until he could feel the hot breath on his ear lobe.

"What are you waiting for?" he heard, the breath tickling his skin and making him shudder, his heart pumping and stomach fluttering as his eyes flickered upward to see the towering boots of the half giant standing mere feet away, apparently waiting for the beast to attack him. Realisation slowly dawned on him and he brought his eyes to rest where he thought Draco's might be, his face an expression of delight, yet putting across the point that this was an extremely stupid thing to do. In return he felt Draco attack his throat making him gasp, and he held his breath as Hagrid shuffled and poked at the bushes with his arrow, Fang sniffing about beside him.

Harry screwed up his eyes as he tried to concentrate over the teeth that were nipping at his skin, and the lips that were sucking so furiously, determined to leave a mark. It took longer than usual as he was trying desperately over the sensation of the cold fingers sliding over his exposed chest, but eventually he felt the egg crack upon his head and he knew that he'd finally managed to do it.

And just in time too.

Hagrid pushed the bushes aside with his arm, the stems and branches snapping as he did so with the force that not many other men could muster and held his bow out threateningly. Fang hovered behind his legs, thick like tree trunks, and Hagrid felt the fear that had been welling up inside of him drain away. There was nothing there- the huge bushes had been hiding nothing, their branches had shadowed no attack, there was no blood. Hagrid shook his head and his huge matted beard scraped across the hide of his coat as he released the branches he had been holding and let them fall back into place.

"C'mon Fang, there 'aint nothing there," he muttered, a little put down, but immensely relieved. He didn't need to be held responsible if a student were to be attacked, but he had in turn felt the adrenalin pump and no longer had any way to use it. Maybe he would go and visit Aragog. He began walking away between the trees as darkness ensued, swinging his bow over his shoulder, and Fang made a small whimper before he followed behind the footsteps of his master.

Harry felt his tense muscles relax, but his heart rate picked up again as Draco slowly began to move down his body, sliding like a snake over his hot, sweaty chest. He couldn't comprehend how Draco knew what he was doing, his own hands invisible and Harry scarcely visible himself, but as his tongue ran over his chest slowly, his canines occasionally nipping at his skin, he knew that he did. He felt his stomach flip as he let out a small moan when Draco's tongue dipped into his belly button and he fingered with his fly. He felt his entire being flutter, he felt light headed, he felt as though he were on some sort of drug- he was addicted.

"You know- for a Gryffindor," Draco breathed as he hungrily tugged at Harry's fly as though he couldn't get it down fast enough. "You're pretty sneaky," he finished and Harry muttered an incoherent response as he felt Draco's mouth close around him.

A crack of thunder flashed across the sky and Draco stopped what he was doing and brought his head up again as he slid back up, feeling the patter of rain on his back. He grumbled and cursed under his breath as he brought himself upward and planted a long, sweet kiss on the others lips before he rolled off and onto the mud that was now welling up with water. Draco's arm seared as the rain hit his wound, the pain throbbing along his arm and shooting down his spine and he gritted his teeth and clutched it to his chest.

"We need to get inside," he muttered and felt Harry's shadowy form searching around for him.

"Why?" Harry asked huskily as his hands found the warm skin and another shudder crept up his back and he let his fingers move upward and explore, mapping out the body in his mind. Draco muttered something and felt the fluttering of his stomach coming back up again as he felt the wet, cold hands move along his skin, but the pain equalled his desire.

"The rain's doing something to my arm," he mumbled as he felt the other lie on top of him, pressing every part of his body against his and shielding him from the water pounding onto them and dripping in fat droplets from the branches and leaves above. He closed his eyes and let a small smile curl his lip as he felt Harry move his hands up his neck in search of his mouth, and Harry leant down to run kisses along his jawbone. He moaned quietly and Harry blindly fumbled about until he reached his mouth and placed a long kiss on his lips, and Draco let his tongue explore his mouth without protest. When Harry finally broke away they both had to gasp for breath, and he felt the passion well up inside of him as he felt the water from Harry's hair drip onto his face.

"I'll take you to the Hospital Wing," Harry said as he sat up on Draco's stomach and let the sensation of an egg cracking on his head run along his body until he was visible once again.

"Hospital Wing?" Draco snorted, looking up at Harry with a half pained- half amused expression that he couldn't see. "And what do you propose I tell her?" he dared, and Harry let out a small 'ooh' as he realised what he meant. Draco smiled and reached up to place another firm kiss on Harry's soaking lips, feeling the droplet that hung on Harry's nose fall onto his as he did so, before letting himself fall back down into the sodden earth.

"What are you going to do then, you need it looked at," Harry said seriously, his voice and eyes filled with concern even though water fell from his lashes as another droplet formed on the end of his nicely shaped nose. He couldn't actually see where Draco was, and was having trouble guessing where to direct his vision as he spoke. He wanted to see Draco again, he wanted to see what he looked like in the rain, what colour that golden hair went, how the droplets ran down his skin.

"Well first I need to get changed," Draco pointed out, and Harry understood even though he couldn't see him. His maroon silk top had already been ripped when he found him, and now it would be completely ruined, along with the rest of his scandalous outfit. Though he did get to see that wonderful silver underwear again, Harry once more felt a wave of lust that he pushed back down with the knowledge that his Draco was injured, and needed to be seen to.

"And then, I'll go and see Professor Snape," he finished, and suddenly Harry felt his heart clench. Professor Snape, a teacher, Slytherin, he liked Draco as far as to say that Draco was his favourite student, and leaving him alone with his Draco- it seemed so stupid. He felt rage and jealousy run through his veins as he thought of what might happen, who might take Draco away from him. Draco winced, as the water seemed to soak into his wounds making them feel as though they were red-hot again and felt the situation become more urgent. But as he looked up to see the fire in those emerald eyes, even in the darkness and the rain, he couldn't help but roll his own.

"Give me a break, I'd sooner kiss Longbottom's toad than Snape. He's the only one that can heal this without asking me how I got it." He snapped and shifted his hips, nearly sending Harry falling sideways into the mud gathering around them. The brunette reached out blindly and held onto either hip as Draco slipped out his wand and brought it up to tap himself three times on the head and mutter the counter-charm.

Harry felt his heart throb and his chest burn in the pouring rain, as Draco re-appeared, just as beautiful as he had imagined him. The water clung to his silvery hair turning it golden, plastered along his head like he had it in first year with the ends dripping water and that tiny bit of hair that fell into his eyes still there. The rain was running down his face, neck and chest like falling diamonds, little drops of pearls that rolled down his creamy, muddy skin.

He felt a coy smile tug at the edge of his lip as he lowered himself ever so slightly, descending upon the perfect droplet seeping down his neck. Draco's creamy skin bristled as the Veela's lips curled around the droplet to lick it off his throat, and his stomach flopped as he once again momentarily forgot about the pain throbbing up his arm. Harry brought himself up to see a small smile on the blonde's lips as well, and he wished the moment would never end. However Draco's arm still lay defensively over his creamy chest, limp and rather lifeless, and he knew that it would have to be resumed another time.

"I suppose we're going to have to go in now," he said rather glumly, his eyes darting over the body beneath him as a ball began to rise in his throat and another wave of lust bubbled in his gut.

"How observant of you," Draco drawled in return as he held the gaze from those emerald orbs with a look that made most people turn away. Harry however, persistent as ever, didn't seemed fazed as Draco's stormy eyes narrowed dangerously and the blonde felt his eyebrow raise curiously as Harry merely grinned.

"I suppose you're right," he said, sighing over dramatically and pushing himself upward, feeling the sodden earth soak into the knees of his already rather wet trousers as he did so.

"I'm always right, Potter," Draco returned as he took Harry's arm and let the Veela help him up to his feet for the first time since he'd re-appeared into the grounds. Draco looked down through his wet lashes to see his shirt completely undone, at least 10 buttons running up the length, and growled low in his throat. Harry seemed to notice Draco's inner battle of whether to do up his shirt or not with his arm, and felt a Slytherin smile curl his lip.

"Want me to help you there?" he asked cheekily and felt his smile grow as Draco shot him a glare as he began to fumble with the last button one handed, his arms and chest pricking with the cold as the icy rain drummed down on him relentlessly. Harry smirked and before Draco could do anything, he'd grabbed both sides of the silk and had lightly tugged Draco closer to him, letting their lips join as he carefully (and slowly) began to do the buttons up again.

Draco let a small moan fall into the other's mouth as he felt Harry's tongue invade, and brought up his own to fend him off, momentarily forgetting that he was still having help doing up his shirt. He felt pretty sure that Harry was taking more time than needed, and that his fingers kept wondering to brush his chest and stomach, but he wasn't complaining. For someone who he was sure hadn't had a girlfriend, or boyfriend for that matter now that he thought about it, since that annoying Chang girl he sure knew what he was doing.

Harry broke away as he finished even though he wanted to do anything but that, and Draco slowly opened his eyes and felt them lock with the green ones of the other. Where had all of this come from? One minute he hated him, next he couldn't hate him, then he started getting a little flushed around him, then he had some sort of weird epiphany and now he was standing outside in the forbidden forest, at night, with the rain soaking through all of his very expensive clothes, in the arms of the damned Veela himself.

"Inside, now!" he snapped before Harry could begin to close the gap again, and he felt the other's arm wrap around his waist as he began to walk away. He ignored that annoying shudder that crept up his spine again as he began to walk in the arm of the other up to the castle. His eyes darted over the walls and through the windows as he prayed no one would see them, but the darkness and the rain had forced everyone deep within the castle walls, and it seemed safe.

The arm around his waist was strangely warm seeing as he was freezing cold, and the fingers curled around his belt loops and his thumb found its way under his sodden top to rub circles on his hip. It fit; Harry was just the right height and build, and everything that happened just seemed- well right. It was a strange feeling; Draco hadn't felt it with anyone else before, but it was almost as though they were made for each other. His eyebrows knitted together in thought as they slowly made their way up the steps of the main entrance, and he didn't notice the green eyes on him all of the way.

Draco was hit with a wave of warmer air that made him shudder as they slipped through the doors, and as they began to make their way up the corridor they became aware of just how wet they really were. Draco's shoes squeaked with each step he took, the sound seeming to echo endlessly around the corridors and making him wince, and Harry's shoes slapping ungracefully on the marble floor wasn't any better.

The halls were glowing blue in the darkness, the clouds blocking out the moon and the stars but the sky sending blue light through the windows. The portraits all gave them odd looks as they past and one of the suits of armour that they past creaked, it's rusty helmet turning to follow them as they past. All the while the arm around his waist kept a firm grip as though holding onto him with the anticipation that something would jump out at them. Something did.

"Well, well, well, I can't say I'm surprised to see that Mr. Potter sees himself above the rules of curfew, but I expected more form you Mr. Malfoy." Draco felt his heart rate pick up suddenly as the cold drawl echoed around the walls like their footsteps. Harry's arm tightened around his waist as he felt the anger bubble up inside of him, but Draco slowly brought his arm up and plucked him off, before turning around.

"Professor Snape," he began in a voice that didn't match his condition one bit. His shirt was clinging to his chest, almost see through, it was un-tucked, he was completely covered in mud and he was soaked to the skin, yet he managed to make his voice sound as though he had just arrived on invitation. "I was just on my way to see you," he lied, suddenly desperately missing the thought of showering before the mud dried in his hair and onto his clothes.

"Oh yes?" Snape replied, arching his eyebrow and crossing his arms over his dark robes chest, his deep black eyes piercing. "I'm glad to see you decided to dress for the occasion." Draco felt his cheeks suddenly begin to heat up as he looked down momentarily to collect himself, feeling the warm body just behind him. He could almost feel Harry's venomous glare, and he felt even more embarrassed, but he cleared his throat and looked up defiantly behind his pink cheeks.

"What were you two doing out in the rain?" Snape ventured, feeling slightly repulsed as he hoped they wouldn't start telling the truth. Both looked as though they'd been doing things he didn't want to think about, both were muddy and soaked and Potter even had handprints on either cheek. However, he did feel his lip curl in amusement at the situation, Potter's deadly glare from a face that looked like something off _Braveheart_ was actually rather funny.

"We got in a fight," Draco lied, never letting his stony eyes waver to let his lie show through. But however much he was a fluent liar, no amount of alibis would smooth out their rather bedraggled appearances.

"Yes, Potter does rather look as though he's been attacked," Snape returned, and Draco felt his cheeks heat up again as he gave a side-glance at Harry to see the red marks on his neck slowly growing. The small teeth marks a few skin layers deep were angry and red, and the large mouth shaped love bits where he had been sucking moments earlier were tingeing purple. "I see you were fighting skin and teeth," Snape topped off his comment, and even Harry faltered with the double meaning.

"Yes, I did get in a few good spells," Draco said smoothly as he ran a hand down his top to absently brush the mud that was caked on it as though it were merely a bit of dust. His heart was drumming fast as he looked at his head of house, but something told him that he'd managed to find a way out of it.

"Indeed," Snape drawled and looked him up and down, unimpressed.

"Sir," Draco began, hitting Snape full on with his stormy eyes as his face sobered and his cheeks returned to their creamy colour as the tinge disappeared. "I was coming to ask for your help," he said seriously, and Snape raised a calculating eyebrow and Draco watched as his dark eyes searched him questioningly. Harry was glaring with all of his might but both were ignoring him, and eventually Snape nodded for him to continue.

"I have received some- injury, and I need it healed," he tried, knowing that it sounded stupid to ask the potions master. Snape already had an idea of what it was so wasn't entirely surprised, but he wanted to make sure.

"Why don't you go to the hospital wing?" he asked, no sarcastic comment following as he held Draco's eyes and tried to search him for emotion. He had already encountered Draco's void on numerous occasions and knew by now that it was futile to try and use legilimency, but his hard gaze was enough to cause most students to blurt the truth. Draco however, wasn't a first year, and neither was he a Hufflepuff, and Snape knew that Draco would stand by what he stated without falling under his scrutiny.

"I need someone who doesn't poke about with questions of its origins." Draco returned. For a long while they just looked into each other's eyes, daring the other to back off, and all of the while Harry's jealousy bubbled and he fought desperately not to place his arm back around Draco's waist. But finally Snape's eyebrow rose a little and he nodded, before turning on his heel down the corridor towards the dungeons.

Harry felt relief spread through him and his tense muscles relaxed as he slipped his arm around Draco's waist again as they followed the potions master down towards the dungeons. The blonde's hips moved gracefully and rhythmically, and without really knowing what he was doing his thumb had once more began running small circles under his shirt. Draco tried to ignore it, it was neither the time nor the place, but he wasn't going to stop it.

The halls grew darker and darker the further they went, the windows disappearing as they ventured underground and torches began lighting their way as they past. Draco was just beginning to feel damp, which wasn't a very pleasant feeling, neither wet nor dry, and he really, really wanted to change. Unfortunately it didn't look like there were any walk-in wardrobes on the way, so he had to grin and bare it. Finally they slowed down as Snape approached the portrait to his quarters, and Draco plucked Harry's fingers from his waist and ignored the feeling disappearing from his chest.

Snape shot a glare at the Gryffindor before the portrait opened and he stepped through, and the two followed behind him. Never in his life had he thought he'd be letting a Gryffindor, let alone Potter of all people, enter his _private _quarters. But the grimace of pain and the twitch of Draco's jaw as he moved in a certain way was enough for him to overlook it.

Snape's room was grand but simple, two chairs sitting before a small fire, a large bookshelf, an ornate writing desk, a bathroom and his bedroom. The walls were deep green and shadowed, there was a window that was charmed to look like the outside, and Draco could hear the fake rain pounding against it. It was warm and cosy and Draco felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him as he realised how tired he really was.

"Show me," Commanded the potions master as they came to stand on the green carpet in the middle of his room. Draco began pushing up his shirt obediently, and Snape took his arm in his hands and begun inspecting it, much to Harry's displeasure. The wounds were dull and red, the bruising and the burning merging together in the rain to leave his arm looking as though he had been bitten and scratched. Draco waited patiently as Snape ran his wand over the burns and healed the skin damage as he knew how, but the potion master was certainly no healer.

"I have most of the potions already made, but there's one or two I shall have to brew. You _two_," he sneered, giving Harry his deadliest look, "Can wait by the fire, do try not to make too much mess," and with that he turned on his heel and made his way to a third room that Draco and Harry both guessed correctly as his store room, and they made their way over to the fire. Draco fell gracefully into one of the chairs and felt himself sink into the pillows luxuriously, feeling his muscles give in and feel as heavy as lead. Harry however cautiously placed himself on the edge of the other seat, not trusting anything, and set his gaze on Draco.

"You all right?" he asked, placing his hand comfortingly on Draco's knee. He didn't like seeing him in pain, and he didn't like seeing him in the potions masters private quarters either. Had he not been able to enter as well, however much he hated being in there, he would have definitely been ripping his hair out about now.

"Mm, tired," Draco replied, as he tried to prop himself up further so that he wouldn't get too comfortable. Falling asleep in Snape's private quarters was hardly his dream arrangement. But his head hurt- it honestly hurt. Why in the name of all that is holy was this happening to him? I mean, he wasn't complaining or anything but these complications, the Death Eaters, the Mark, that insanely gorgeous Veela that just happened to be against the Mark and the Death Eaters- the school, life _in general_ really.

"Here," Snape snapped and Draco jumped a little in surprise at seeing him suddenly there. He was holding out a small red vial, pain relief- excellent! Draco snatched it eagerly and downed it in one go, ignoring the glares and anxious looks being shot from Harry a few feet away. He felt the heat begin to run through his veins and spreading into his flesh and sunk a little lower into his chair as his arm numbed and sat comfortably in whatever position he put it in.

"I don't suppose you've figured out why the Mark hasn't worked yet," Snape muttered as he took the empty vial and picked out another one from the small selection in his hand. Draco looked up with mild astonishment, but Harry for some reason didn't seem too surprised. How in the- ooh. Snape was a Death Eater, holy mother of- Snape was a Death Eater! Harry had love bites on his neck and handprints on his face and SNAPE WAS A DEATH EATER! Voldemort would know, he would use it against him; he would betray everyone or be killed.

Draco paled more than humanly possibly within those few moments, his cheeks losing the healthy flush and the heat from the fire as fast as you could blink. Snape raise his eyebrow, why would Draco possibly be getting so upset? His dark eyes darted over to Potter who seemed more than genuinely concerned, his gut twisted in revulsion, but it became apparent that he had no idea either.

Meanwhile Draco's head was spinning and his heart was drumming fast as he held onto the new vial without really knowing what he was doing. Would he have to kill Snape? Would his head of house honestly go and tell Voldemort? Yes, of course- he was a Slytherin! Why did he care all of the sudden? Why, oh why was this happening to him? Draco blinked a few times as he slowly began to recover from the shock and plastered his face as thick as he could make it, before downing the next potion.

"Why, do you?" He retorted at last, giving his head of house the least trusting glare he had ever given, and Snape had ever seen. The potions master was caught a little off guard, why would Draco be so upset? He'd only asked; it's not as though- oh… He was a Death Eater, Harry was the opposite, and Draco was stuck right in the middle. His gut twisted again and he forced himself not to grimace as he handed Draco the next vial, the boy really did have _feelings _for the idiot. He gave Draco a harsh look as he watched him sniff at the newest potion, who did the boy think he was?

"I could venture a guess," he returned, completely calm and rid of the thoughts that had flashed through his mind in no time at all. Draco shot him an icy look and he resisted the urge to rise his voice, "I'm not going to run off to You-Know-Who," he muttered, and Draco's face instantly softened. The blonde suddenly had a lot of questions, which really wasn't doing anything for his headache, not only was he now thinking about his own dilemmas, all the while trying not to get distracted by those wonderful lips, he now had Snape's questionable loyalty. Urg!

"And what would that be?" he replied as he finally assessed that the potion wasn't poisonous and downed it, sticking out his tongue in disgust. It tasted like… well it was foul! It was bitter like poison and freezing while leaving an aftertaste that greatly resembled the aroma of urine. He gagged and tried not to let the taste overcome him as he snatched the next potion and downed it without hesitation, thankful when the cool liquid flushed the taste from his tongue.

"You are aware that no one person can have more than one magical connection put upon them?" Snape queried cryptically, the flames dancing over his pale skin and lighting his black eyes to give more depth than people gave him credit for. His black robes in fact turned out to be a deep blue in the light, and his greasy hair now shone. He suddenly didn't look quite so menacing to Harry, but that only made the fact that he was with Draco more urgent. The better-looking Snape is, the more chance there is of something happening. He growled low in his throat and sank a little lower into his chair, folding his arms over his chest, and let his green eyes dance over the conversation as he tried to keep up. He'd only just got Draco, and he wasn't going to give up easily.

"Yes," Draco snapped as he handed back the last vial, his arm now twitching slightly as the muscles healed the internal burning. "But what has that got to do with it?" he retorted and put his other hand over his arm to try and control the muscles as they jerked. He was tired and agitated and he wasn't in the mood for stupid irrelevant questions. How stupid did Snape think he was, he wouldn't have gotten a magical mark and then gone to get _another one_, idiot!

"Oh, it has everything to do with it," Snape replied, a small smile curling the edge of his lip as he let his eyes dance between the glaring Gryffindor and the questionable look on the blonde. Draco watched his eyes with a sudden passion to rip them from their sockets as they danced about, but the longer he looked, the more realisation dawned on him.

"Had any epiphany's lately, Mr. Malfoy?" he said, smirking knowingly as he saw Draco's eyes widen a little before they narrowed dangerously, his head quickly whipping around to glare at the Veela, who recoiled.

"Well, you can hardly expect any less, he _is _a creature," he sneered. Draco's head whipped around again, his eyes tearing away from Harry who seemed half scared to death, and half so upset his heart may as well have been wrenched out, and turned to give the same look to the potions master. Snape merely felt his lip curl again as those stormy eyes burned into him with a passion, and turned on his heel to brew the remaining potions, not particularly thrilled with the idea of being broken in two.

Draco's eyes followed him all of the way, burning two great big holes into the back of his head. Creature- did he just call Harry a creature? He had just suggested, no implied that Harry was an animal, no better than a damned hippogriff. He felt anger well up inside of him as he stared at the door that closed behind him and his fist opened and closed as the adrenalin pumped through his blood. That insufferable pri-

Draco felt a pair of luscious lips plant upon his own, nothing complicated, just a soft, sweet kiss that made the anger suddenly disappear as he became absorbed completely in the fluttering of his stomach and the hand running through his damp hair. His heart throbbed and he felt his own hand come up to run his fingers through the thick, wet hair of the person above him and everything disappeared. Draco's lips tried to follow the others as they began to tear away but eventually they broke apart and Draco opened his stormy eyes to look straight into the green orbs of the other.

"I'm sorry, I didn't me-"

"I'll forgive you if you do that again," he butted in, and Harry's lips tugged into a coy smile before he swooped down and Draco felt himself lean further into the soft, inviting chair.

Snape heard noises and almost retched into his cauldron.


	13. I don't know what i'd do without you

Since that day the rains hadn't really stopped, the ground had been nearly deserted for almost a week due to the clouds that hung like a curse over the castle and the rain that was forever pounding. By night it was little better, the rains stopping occasionally to give way to the howling wind, or just to continue spitting for a few more hours. British weather at its greatest.

Now the rain had broken for a little, but the darkened purple clouds that rolled like waves over the sky hidden above were plastered as far as the eye could see. It was like a blanket had been cast over the school to block out the sun and the world around them, confining, restricting. The forest's gnarled trees merged into the horizon, jarring at different angles with branches that linked like chains, arms designed to close like a flytrap, dragging you in once you venture too close and closing you in like a wall. The lake looked like oil, dark and shimmering, strangely beautiful but uninviting, the dark surface hiding what lay underneath.

Draco sat upon the astronomy tower, his dark school robes hugged against his chest as he tightened them to shield himself against the bitter cold that was trying to drive him back inside. His toes were numb and his face was brushed pink from the wind grating against his skin, but he was relentless and refused to withdraw as everyone else had. His silver blue eyes were pointed off focus on the horizon, deep in thought, but they flashed with the emotions he felt.

It was times like this that Draco wished he'd listened to his mother's rants about Veela, and then maybe he would have been a little more prepared. Now that he'd gotten over the initial lust and desire, he was troubled. The silver scar on his forearm was all that was left from his initiation, but one silver scar would most definitely not be the last of it. Voldemort had yet to try again and it seemed that the longer he drew it out, the more Draco felt unease well up inside of him, and the terror of that day still lay fresh in his mind.

Sadness welled behind his eyes, shimmering like mercury and spreading through every shred of his being to make him feel weighted down. It was still coming, he'd been lucky, delayed it, but now he would suffer for what had happened. But then again it all falls upon how you would define luck, because Draco was starting to have second thoughts. Luck was how he'd gotten away, how he was still free, but the origin for that luck threaded beads of complication into his life that he wasn't sure how to deal with.

The mark hadn't worked because he already had a magical bond upon him, without him knowing it. That moment in the hospital wing as he looked down to see himself from above he had unintentionally accepted something that he knew was to bring trouble. Veela choose one partner, and one partner alone, and it seemed the Harry had tried to ensure his own with a magical and emotional link. He didn't even know he was doing it, but he had bonded his magic and deep feelings to ensnare upon Draco the moment he accepted. Before now, Draco had never thought what he did had been accepting anything.

An even more troubling thought was that he knew bonds came in steps of three, and all three would be completed once the first had begun. He'd accepted the emotional, accepted the physical, which left… you guessed it, magical. How the hell does a magical bond work? Draco simply had no idea, he just prayed with all of his might that it wouldn't upset the fine line that his life was balanced precariously on. If it were obvious, he'd be a dead man- literally.

But with Harry it was all so simple, it was so easy to sink into his touch and feel your soul heighten and soar as though you didn't have a care in the world. It was so easy to fall into the shadows of his eyes that never stopped sparkling, so easy to become consumed in the arms of darkness that wrap around your soul and pull you deeper. At night it was simple, with Harry, the creature of the night, it was simple. But Draco didn't belong in the shadows, his golden hair that shone like the sun and his skin that glowed like cream were meant for the daylight, the beams to light the coldness of his heart.

Once those lips brushed his with the softness and desire, he was lost. Everything was lost, the mark on his arm disappeared and the wounds upon his soul healed once those arms wrapped around him, when he wasn't alone. But in the daylight, nothing was simple.

Harry wasn't meant for the daylight, _he_ was meant for the daylight. They were opposites but they attracted like the poles of a magnet, so different yet similar in so many ways, healing each other and embracing the time together. They weren't to be together in the light, the light where Slytherins spied for the man with snake eyes, where the dangers that the darkness had taken re-appear in all of their glory.

Draco couldn't be with Harry as the sun rose upon the horizon and sent the Veela's element retreating. There were so many complications, the shadow being against the very thing he was to become, the eyes that see what you do and tear it away from you. If someone were to report to Voldemort that light and dark were fraternising, Voldemort would use the light to ensnare the darkness, and although Draco wanted nothing better than to disappear into the shadows with Harry forever, the shadows were only there half of the time.

And the other half seemed so much longer.

Draco sighed and let the wind swallow the sounds and carry them away, lapping the breath form his lips into a swirling fog that disappeared to never return. There was no escape; he was already too entangled in the affairs of daylight to disappear. If he vanished he would be hunted down, and if he accepted, he would die fighting for something he would never believe in. Draco let the wind play with his hair, the willowy fingers lifting the silvery strands to dance in the moonlight like silk as though they were as light as the air around them. He felt his legs nudged by the gales as they hung over the tower, swinging in the wind.

How easy it would be just to- fall. Draco leant forward to peer down the drop, the wind howling in his ears as it blew up the walls and rocked the contorted trees of the forest. His head spun and he pulled back, taking deep calming breaths as he tried to clear the blackness that crept up upon the edges of his mind and clawed at his consciousness. He'd never had vertigo before, but he knew that this wasn't vertigo. This was confliction; he wanted to end it all, the complication and the suffering, yet at the same time that seemed like the most unappealing concept. Leaving, leaving what little happiness he had, it was strange but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Well, maybe it wasn't all that strange.

Draco shook his head, his silvery hair blowing around and into his eyes, and swung his legs vigilantly back over the wall. This was not an option, he decided, but he knew that he'd need something to keep him going, and that something happened to be a someone, and that someone was currently asleep in his rather inviting bed. For the first time in days Draco felt his lips curl into a sardonic smile, and he let the wind lap at his robes for one last time, before he made his way back down the tower, heading northeast.

12½ minutes later…

Draco padded across the refined wooden floor silently as he peeled his frozen robes from his equally frozen body, letting the cold air sweep against his chest as he tore off his shirt, his rich porcelain skin flourishing in goose bumps. The purple clouds still loomed out of the window, intimidating him, but he ignored them as he set about digging as quietly as he could for his pyjamas.

Silk, satin, cotton, calico- Merlin! Did he have no winter pyjamas? These were all damned freezing! Draco shuddered and shook his head in distain as he pulled out the thickest looking he could see and pulled them over his boxers, shuddering as the material ran over his cold pricked skin. They were light blue, and light in all aspects because he could swear that they were virtually see-through. He shook his head in disapproval and folded his arms as he made his way out of his room and across the thick carpet and cold wooden floor of the common room.

Now he had two things to order from France, winter pyjamas (a lot of them) and that outfit he'd remembered from a strange dream. All black dress robes above the knee, matching trousers and cape. He mentally noted them and told himself that he'd owl the designer in the morning.

Draco let his spidery white fingers reach out for the handle on the door reading 'Harry Potter' in golden italics, but stopped before his fingertips brushed the coppery surface. The wards, the damned magical signeture wards! Draco growled low in his throat and gripped his torso roughly with his other arm as his fingers began to go numb, but his hand stayed poised over the brass surface. He could almost feel the warmth of the sleeping body hitting him from inside of the room, taunting him, and he scowled at the handle. He wanted to get in, he wanted to be warm and he wanted to sleep, with the one thing that he gave a damn about at that moment in time.

click

Draco felt his eyes widen a little as the door opened a crack as the lock released, and he was hit with a small wave of warmer air and smiled as he breathed it in deeply, savouring the feeling. He frankly didn't give a damn what had just happened for the door to open, because he could spy Harry's large golden red bed on the other side of the room and had begun to make his way towards it.

Harry lay on his back with one arm over his head and the other laying lazily over his chest. He wore no top- to Draco's delight, but the blonde found it strange how Harry could be so warm and comfortable when he was so bitterly cold. His mouth was open a crack and his chest rose and fell with every deep breath he took. The covers were around his waist and he lay dead center of the bed, taking up all of the room. Draco smirked his eyes alight with something that they had never shown before, compassion maybe? He let his gaze travel over the length of the sleeping form before him as he contemplated disturbing him, but his thoughts lead to the knowledge that there was no way he wasn't going to get in now.

Slowly he peeled back the covers gently, making sure not to expose any more of the sleeping Veela than was already exposed and slipped in, feeling the mattress sink a little under his weight. He felt a warm flush run through him with the heat under the covers and immediately felt his toes begin to thaw, and he shifted his body closer to the other with the limited movement possible.

"Your feet are cold," he heard Harry murmur quietly, and turned his head around to see one of Harry's emerald eyes cracked open as he shifted a little into the covers and watched with a small smile as Draco began to do the same.

"Oh really, I hadn't noticed," he drawled, but the smile upon his lips held none of the arrogance that he normally showed, his mask down for the first time in years in front of another person. Harry let out a small, tired chuckle, and made no reply as he gently pushed the covers over Draco's shoulder and let his arm sneak around the lean waist of the blonde and pulled him closer. Draco let himself slot in the curves of the other body and felt his skin bristle with the warm touch as he felt the hands around him, the tender touch he'd been missing for so long. Draco sighed with content and nuzzled into the crook of Harry's neck, getting a small chuckle in response as Harry's skin was brushed with his cool, rythmic breaths.

"G'night, my little Dragon," Harry murmured as he let his eyes close, feeling more at peace than he'd ever remembered feeling. The soft material on his bare torso and the cold toes made him feel that he had someone there for him, and as he felt the cool skin begin to warm against his own he let a small smile brave his handsome face.

"Less of the little," Draco grunted in return, and Harry's smile broadened as they both fell into a peaceful sleep in each others arms.

…

Murky grey clouds wandered past the window leisurely, the merging splashes of creamy white and midnight black combining as rain fell to the floor like a curtain hanging over the grounds. A small starling chirped outside of the window against the gloom, the only bird stupid enough to be out in the weather, its lone song travelling into the wind only to disappear. The faint sound of water hitting the lake drifted up to the tower overlooking it, the patter of raindrops hammering against the glass pane adding to the noise complimenting the fresh, damp smell in the air.

Harry's green eyes flickered open to adjust to the dim light of the room, the sun hidden behind the canvas of clouds covering the sky as far as the horizon. He blinked and shuffled further into the source of warmth next to him, drawing it closer without even knowing what it was as he licked his dry lips and moaned quietly. Whatever it was shifted slightly and mumbled under its breath, and Harry cracked open his eyes again to see what it was.

Draco.

Harry didn't even need to look, he was unmistakable. The faint smell of cologne and wild flowers on his clothes, in his hair, on his neck. The soft skin beneath his fingers, the expensive pyjamas that left little to the imagination, being translucent. The way that they fitted so perfectly together, the way that Draco's legs were stretched luxuriously over his mattress, taking most of the room. The soft breathing that tickled the back of his arm and made him shudder, and more importantly, the way he felt the happiest he had ever felt in his life. He felt complete, he felt as though nothing in the world could ruin the moment, not Voldemort, not war, not anything. He smiled, letting his toes curl as he slowly placed his leg over Draco possessively and breathed in deeply, savouring his scent.

His right arm was slotted snugly above Draco's shoulder, his neck draped over Harry's upper arm as his head came to rest on the pillow above. From there Harry's arm was bent and wrapped around his firm, creamy torso and his other arm was securely around his waist. Harry sighed contentedly and drew him in further, until there was not a part of them not touching, too dazed to wonder about anything else. What mattered was that this felt right, it felt perfect, and he was sure he had never felt happier in all of his life.

He found his face buried in a waterfall of silver hair, feeling as soft as silk against his cheek as he nuzzled against it gently, letting his hands skirt over the body next to him, mapping it out in his semi conscious mind. He felt the satin pyjamas beneath his fingertips, the smooth skin of his stomach where the top rode up beneath their thick covers, and the shoulder left exposed to the morning air, slightly colder than the rest of the body. Untangling his arm from around the Draco's waist, smiling as he heard a small moan of protest from the sleeping form, he brought his fingers up and gently pushed the mane of silky locks behind his ear before he wrapped his arm back around the waist again.

Harry shuffled a little bit, trying to make as little movement as possible, until he reached the right position to bury his head in the crook of Draco's neck. His stomach fluttered as he gently began bringing his toes up the leg of Draco's trousers and planted the smallest of butterfly kisses on the side of his neck. Draco moaned quietly and his breathing pattern changed as he began to wake up, making Harry smile against his skin as he moved up to nip at his ear lobe.

Draco's skin tingled beneath each kiss as though he were being brushed by a feather, making him shudder against the leg draped over him and slowly running under his pyjamas. His stomach fluttered pleasantly, and he felt the blood in his veins pump a little faster as he slowly woke up in the most wonderful fashion he could remember. He took a deep breath, sighing in content, and breathed in the familiar scent of pine and grass, natural and fresh connoting an image of complete freedom.

Draco's grey eyes fluttered open as he felt the lips move to his jaw bone, tracing the line of his face, all the while barely touching it, making him shiver and let out a small 'mew' at the back of his throat. Normally he might have been a little mortified that he'd 'mewed', but in that moment he had far better things to worry about. The room was basking in a dull, grey glow, the golden furniture looking wine red and bleak in the little light shining through the gaps in the curtains, but the walls still sparkled golden. Ah, now he remembered where he was. Draco let his eyes fall again, and a small smile tugged at his lips. He'd finally found cloud nine.

Draco sighed again and slowly turned around, letting the lips trace him with his movement, moving until they were brushing the tender spot beneath his chin. He groaned and let his closed eyes flutter, and Harry caught on, working over the same tender skin and receiving a few satisfying noises in return. He sneaked gently over the body beneath him, his bare skin moving easily over the silky material. The leg that had previously been draped over the blonde reached the mattress on the other side and he straddled Draco's waist, bending down as he worked on the smooth, silky skin with his lips and teeth as Draco tipped his head back eagerly.

"You like?" Harry murmured against his skin as his fingers wondered and plucked eagerly at the buttons of Draco's shirt. He got a moan in return and felt himself go light headed in ecstasy, pushing the shirt gently away from Draco's chest as he slid down and attacked the creamy skin he had unearthed. The blonde's eyes rolled back a little beneath his eyelids as he arched his back gently, and felt Harry fiddling with the drawstring of his trousers.

Draco brought his hips up to let them be pulled down smoothly over the bulge beneath his boxers, groaning deeply as he felt the tongue dip into his belly button. He'd been out with a lot of people, and done this more than once, yet he couldn't help feeling the same anticipation running through his veins just like the first time all over again. It was almost as though he was starting with a clean slate, as though nothing had ever happened up until this point. It was exhilarating, and not quite frightening but, strange. Not in a bad way mind, if anything this felt, well perfect.

An arm slipped around his waist and he rose to let it under, feeling the cool fingers brushing over his skin, his heart beating faster every second. He moaned loudly as he felt Harry's mouth close around him, feeling the fingers brushing his back as he raised his hips to meet him before he could stop himself, feeling the warmth around him as the tongue moved rhythmically around every bloody tender spot he had. It was almost as though Harry knew exactly where his weaknesses were, knew exactly how to bring out every moan.

With his other hand he tugged down his own boxers, the only thing he had been sleeping in, feeling his pulse not only on his wrists as he throbbed. He felt Draco arch underneath him, giving him the satisfaction of knowing that it was him bringing this perfect being such pleasure. Every moan was like a bird's song to his ears, the way Draco's fingers curled around the sheets and his legs stretched in the feeling, it was like sweet poison.

He let Draco go, hearing him murmur weak protests under his breath, and licked his lips as he sunk back up his body to connect their lips together. Their tongues battled raw passion against each other, Draco's jaw moving fast against his own as he tasted himself on his tongue.

"Can I-?" Harry breathed against his mouth as he kept himself under enough control not to thrust his hips against Draco in the moment.

"Oh god, yes," Draco returned, before clashing their lips together, snaking his fingers in Harry's hair, feeling the ebony strands between his fingers as he tugged impatiently.

Harry took a deep breath through his nose in preparation, he'd never done anything like this before, ever. He didn't even know how he'd gotten this far with so little to go by, but with Draco it all came naturally and even though he felt his blood pump with adrenalin and his stomach flutter almost painfully for the first time, it just felt too right to go wrong. Harry pressed himself harder against the smaller boy, and let himself slip inside. He grunted as he felt it, the light headed feeling once more clouding his mind as he grabbed hold of Draco's hips and pushed. Draco moaned loudly and tipped his head back, mussing Harry's hair beneath the fingers of one hand while the other one found its way onto his backside, following the movements. Harry's hand snaked down to slowly move along Draco to give him some of the same feelings he was getting, and he was greeted with Draco growing harder beneath his grip.

The walls that glittered golden sparked as the air crackled with magic, the room flashing as though in a thunderstorm, as everything magical whirred and lit up as though powered with a faulty fuse. Both felt an intense warm brush through them, both arching simultaneously as the feeling ran up their spines and made all of their muscles tense momentarily. A soft wind blew through the room, rustling the curtains and playing with their damp hair, and the feeling of something deep within their souls opened up as they moaned and thrust. Their sweaty bodies pushing and rubbing against each other as Harry tipped his head back and cried Draco's name, Draco's fingers pulling the sheets off the mattress and Harry moved one of his arms to grab at the headboard as though his life depended on it.

Thankfully, no one was around the northeast tower to hear the twin cries of pleasure barely a minute later.

…

They had done it two more times after that, and even though Draco had more than enjoyed it, he was now knackered. He fell graciously into the ornate chair in front of the writing desk, clad only in his boxers and a thin black dressing gown and sighed happily. He'd never felt so complete, never felt so alive and so at peace with himself before. Everything had always had complications, there had always been risks and bad evenings out the good, but for once he didn't feel the need to touch wood whenever he walked out of the door. He smiled lazily out of the window at the grey clouds above, a merge of dark and light just as they were, and sighed. God he was soft. God he didn't care.

Draco's hair fell in front of his eyes as he looked down and opened one of the drawers to reveal a neat stack of parchments along with a few quills and ink. He slipped out a thick piece and put it on the desk before him, and dipped the end of the quill in the ink. He needed to send the sketch off to Fabrice (his designer in France) before the end of the morning, so that he could be sure that if it didn't arrive to him in exactly fifteen days he could complain. He liked complaining, and he especially liked getting complimentary items in rare materials to go with what he'd ordered. Being a Malfoy occasionally had his advantages.

The nib of the quill scratched against the paper as he began making rough circles as he proportioned out his own body on the page, outlining it with detail afterwards as the circles disappeared to be left with only his frame. He began sketching eagerly, scratching furiously over areas of dense colour and crosshatching in the shading. The cloak, the dress robes above the knee over a long sleeved top and black trousers. He didn't even notice Harry creeping up behind him, until he had wrapped his arms around his waist and slipped him onto his knee.

"What are you doing?" he asked quietly, placing his face on Draco's shoulder as he looked down to see the blonde scribbling furiously on a piece of parchment. His movements almost seemed random, like he was a small child drawing lines with crayons, but as he looked down he couldn't help but gasp. Although still unfinished, even though the robes were still parchment colour in places and there was not yet hair upon his head, a miniature Draco stood out on the page with a hand on his hip.

"I didn't know you could draw," he added as an afterthought, impressed with the details and feeling something inside of him well with some sort of pride or recognition as he realised that his Draco was even more perfect than before.

"I didn't know you could talk to snakes," Draco returned, a small smirk tugging at his lip.

"Touché," Harry replied, nipping at Draco's neck before he leant back over and peered intently at the page.

But what was strange was the fact that these were exactly the same clothes as he had remembered Draco wearing in his dream. The dream he had woken up from in Transfiguration, the dream that had been more of a fantasy for him as he dreamt of all of the things he wanted to do.

"I had this dream a while back, while I was in the Hospital Wing," Draco began absently as he began to colour in mini Draco's cloak, "and in it I was wearing this. I happen to have a lot of my father's money to spend, and I also happen to like the outfit, so I've decided to order it from my designer in France and get it posted to me in about a fortnight." Mini Draco's cloak began to sway in some imaginary breeze the moment he finished, and he dipped his quill in the ink again and moved it down to the trousers.

"You- what?" Harry asked, finding it hard to form an entire sentence. The Hospital Wing, that had been about a week and a bit ago, when had he had that dream? It had been a Tuesday, he'd been in Transfiguration which mean he would have been in… 4th period. When was Draco in the hospital wing? Could they have really shared the same dream, the same subconscious thoughts?

Draco sighed and scribbled furiously, pretending to ignore the stupid question.

"I- I had that dream too," Harry breathed. Draco's quill slipped, creating a line from his trousers off the page and onto the table. He cursed under his breath and ripped open one of the draws for some ink remover before it dried, trying to save his drawing before he dealt with the strange nagging at the back of his mind.

He sighed as the ink disappeared beneath the small sponge, and sank back a little against Harry's chest as he looked down at his half finished picture.

"It was probably different," he muttered, leaning back forward and beginning to shade in the side of his face.

"No- it, well it was dark and you were there, wearing that. And all I could see was you against the darkness, so I moved forward and I wrapped my arms-" Draco's pen slipped again, but this time his movements were more sluggish as he ran the remover sponge over the line.

"And then, then what did you do?" he asked, genuinely curious as he kept his voice steady, switching on the block of his emotions just as he did whenever he was forced to be strong, even though inside he was screaming.

Harry hesitated. He wasn't sure what Draco would think about him dreaming over him before they were together, perhaps he would take it as obsession or strange, deluded fantasies. Harry looked up to see Draco's head turned slightly to the side, looking at him from the side of his eye with an unreadable expression. His stormy eyes seemed to shine with something hidden that Harry couldn't determine, and the hair that fell before his creamy skin hung like a waterfall. He looked like an angel, and he knew that if he lost this, he'd lose everything. Harry sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, tightening his grip on Draco's waist almost like a lifeline.

"And then I kissed your neck," he muttered, and winced as he felt Draco tense beneath his grip. But Draco was not tensing because of Harry's fantasies, he was not tensing in repulsion of Harry thinking of him that way before he truly returned the feeling, he was tensing for three reasons.

Curiosity, the thoughts buzzing through his mind of the different types of mind magic involved in subconscious mind links, and the strange feeling in his chest as though trying to tell him something, trying to convince him. He shook his head and placed down his quill, turning around a little in Harry's lap to face him. And finally, denial.

Normal wizards don't have mind links, he told himself logically, and especially not teenagers. Connecting with someone while conscious was hard enough, let alone while you're asleep. Shared dreams aren't uncommon, but they are usually vague or forgotten because it was merely caused by the stray dreams latching onto others and moulding together. To have the exact same dream, the dream Draco was picturing in his mind behind his thoughtful expression, meant you would have to be with someone completely on a subconscious level.

"Strange," he muttered at last, turning back to the parchment to finish the right trouser leg, watching as mini Draco's left leg shifted uncomfortably and the rest of his body was brought to life.

"By the way," he added as an after thought, "You're going to miss quidditch practice."

"Shit!" Harry hissed, gently slipping out from beneath Draco and standing up before running into his room to grab his Firebolt and quidditch robes. The blonde let a small smile tug at his lips and shook his head, turning back to the parchment as he jotted down his memorised measurements on the side of the page, and pulled out another piece of parchment to address a small letter including a vague description of the pyjamas he wanted.

Harry ran back in a few moments later with half of his robes on as he frantically did up the buttons while trying to shove on his shin pads and do up his belt. He leant down and pressed against Draco's lips, causing him to lean back a little in the chair, before breaking apart and flashing a quick smile before picking his broom off the floor and running for the door.

"I don't know what I'd do without you, Drake!" he cried over his shoulder, letting the tapestry fall back behind him to leave Draco with the view of those hauntingly beautiful swaying trees. Draco shook his head and turned back to the letter, dipping his quill in the ink again.

"I don't even want to think about it," he muttered to himself, smiling coyly, before he moved the quill against the paper and let his cursive writing litter the page.


	14. didn't get around to it

"Pansy- please. Just get off- get the hell off me!" Draco tried to push her off his arm but it just wasn't working. It was like she was some sort of limpet that just would NOT let go! He was not amused.

Harry was doing something with the mudblood as per usual, and he'd found that their rooms were boring when he wasn't there. So he'd gone back to the Slytherin common room, just for old times' sake.

The dungeons were as cold as he had remembered. Candles adorned the walls, casting an orange glow over the otherwise gothic atmosphere. The house crest was hanging above the fireplace where a roaring fire crackled healthily. Beneath his feet a Persian rug crept between his toes and open hallways lead from left and right, leading to the dormitories.

"Ah, so I see we're finally good enough for you." Blaise's voice was calm and factual, but Draco could tell that he was joking. The Slytherin was draped over one of the armchairs with a large tome on his lap and a pair of reading glasses half way down his nose. His dark eyes glistened in the firelight, even though it was midday, but his face was once more devoid of any obvious emotion.

"Yes," he drawled, waving his free hand leisurely, ignoring Pansy. "I saw it fitting to grace you all with my presence. I know how much you've all been missing me."

"Oh but we have!" Pansy squealed, looking up at him with watery blue eyes. Draco would have taken a step backward if he'd been able too. The close proximity was worrying him slightly.

He glanced over to Blaise, who seemed to find his predicament extremely amusing. Well, amusing enough to make that dimple twitch on the side of his cheek as he tried to suppress a smile. Draco scowled at him and pushed Pansy off, before throwing himself into one of the chairs before she could get her hands on him again.

She sat on his lap. "Oh for the love of magic Parkinson! I need to breathe!" he protested, pushing her away. She pouted, seemingly under the impression that it would work, before sighing and falling dramatically onto the sofa.

"So… not have enough time for your old housemates lately then?" Blaise dared, putting his book face down on the floor and peering over his glasses at him.

Draco suppressed the urge to shift awkwardly. Blaise's eyes were boring into him as though they were reading his soul, and although he knew that he couldn't, it still unnerved him no end. "Yes… I have been rather busy. NEWTs coming up and all that." He lied.

"Hmm…" he didn't look convinced. It was well known that Draco scheduled all of his studying in advance, even if he didn't publicise the fact. But he'd always been able to spare some time for a social life, either that or patronising Potter and his cronies.

"People have reported seeing you with Potter a lot recently. And I don't believe you've been acting yourself around him lately either. I always seemed to remember you forever wanting to be the first in line to get a word in about his family, or Granger's bloodline, even Weasley seems to have been avoiding you."

Blaise was looking at him as though he knew all of the answers, and was just testing him. Draco narrowed his eyes slightly and shifted himself in his chair, and Pansy was silent in rapt fascination.

He twisted his hostile expression into a crooked grin, and Blaise raised an eyebrow. "Yes… well. I took care of Weasley a little while ago." He drawled.

"Oh Draco!" Pansy breathed, smiling with something akin to glee in her eyes. "You _always _get the upper hand on that blood traitor. What did you do?"

"Oh… you know," he said lazily. He didn't want to mention too much about it or elaborate the truth until it was too unreal, which he knew that he'd end up doing.

He shifted his gaze to Blaise, who was still watching him thoughtfully without expressing any of his feelings. Blaise was smart, a good ally, but he was a tricky character. He now regretted not reporting back to the Slytherins earlier, but was still under the impression that he'd be able to worm his way out of their scrutiny.

The firelight caught Draco's platinum hair and aristocratic features. Blaise could see something different about him, something not so much physical as… spiritual. He'd never believed in the powers of divination or any of that drabble, but Draco stuck something within him which told him that there was more there than met the eye. He looked… happier. He looked healthier, there was a little more colour to his skin and his stormy eyes didn't seem quite so harsh and brittle. Something had happened, and Blaise wanted to know what.

"That still doesn't answer my question. It's almost as though you're leaving Potter and Granger _alone_. Spending time with them even." _And there's something that you're not telling us. _

"Certain arrangements had to be made…" he began warily, "Veela are very temperamental creatures and I am still unsure as to what he's capable of. I need time to study him… assess him. As for Granger, well. I wouldn't be caught dead in the library."

It felt weird lying like that about Harry. Of course, the part about Granger was true. He hadn't spoken to her yet all year, ever since the NEWT examinations drew within a good eight months she wouldn't be seen anywhere _but _the library. But what was also strange, what also felt off to him, was how _easy _it was to lie about it.

Blaise quirked a smile, even though he still didn't look convinced. "Quite," he said.

"I don't know why I ever doubted you."

"_I _never doubted you for one minute Draco," said Pansy, looking smug and batting her eyelashes. He still had no idea why he'd ever gone to that Yule ball with her, even if it had been years ago. Since then she had never quite gotten her head around the fact that they weren't together, nor ever would be.

He gave her a tight-lipped smile.

"So, you going to invite us into your new rooms or are we gonna have to break in?" Goyle ventured. Him and Crabbe were both sitting on the floor playing snakes and carpets on a beat up old game board, using sickles as counters. Their lumbering frames slumped foreword like two trolls trying to light a fire.

"Yes, I'm sure we'd all love to see what's so special as to tear you away from where you _truly _belong." Blaise quipped, smiling sardonically.

"Well…" he began. He wasn't sure if he wanted them up there. Now it seemed sort of- his and Harry's place, and no one else's. "It is a rather long way to walk and I have only just got here."

"Oh phu-leeeeeese Drakie-poo! Pretty pretty please with a cherry on top!" Pansy squealed, clapping her hands together and bouncing where she sat.

He looked her up and down with an expression of distaste, but he felt sure that it would look highly suspicious if he said no. "Alright."

"Yaaaay!" she cried, jumping onto his lap. Her blonde hair was plaited behind each ear, and one of them managed to thwack him around the face as she landed.

"Oomph," he breathed as she knocked the breath out of his lungs. "Control yourself woman!"

"I'd rather not," she purred, wrapping her arms around his neck and giving him a half smile, which he supposed was meant to be seductive.

Blaise groaned from somewhere past her face, and Draco heard the sounds of shifting bodies before Blaise was standing beside him. His eyes were the colour of obsidian and they reflected the firelight like a mirror. His lips were pulled into a quirky smile as he offered his hand. "Come Pansy, I'm sure you'll need all of your energy for the trek up there."

"Why thank you Blaise, what a gentleman," she replied, taking the hand offered and letting Blaise pull her to her feet. Draco couldn't help but look relieved as he stood up also, and wrinkled his nose as he began to brush down his robes.

…

The library was quiet and peaceful, as it always was, and forever would be, as long as Madame Pince walked the isles. Somewhere near the back, a Ravenclaw sixth year was getting it off with a Hufflepuff, and on the other side Snape was gathering books from the restricted section.

The dim Sunday afternoon sunlight filtered through the clouds to pierce through the windows, lighting up the rows upon rows of dusty books, most of which were never even used. The only sounds to be heard were the hushed whisperings of the occasional student or the clicking of shoes upon the wooden floorboards. Sometimes there was a, 'Shhh!' as the librarian caught someone in the act of conversation.

Harry and Hermione sat opposite each other on the table farthest away from the librarian's desk, pushing into a corner and shrouded in shadows. Hermione had protested at first, saying that it would be profoundly difficult to read or write in the dark, but Harry had insisted. He didn't want the librarian to hear what he had to say, nor did he want anyone else to.

Hermione's bushy brown hair was tied up messily, leaving curly strands falling around her face which she had to keep blowing out of her eyes as she tried to study, made even harder in the darkness. Harry's messy black hair, which was no longer messy, kept being run through with his hand as he looked around nervously. He'd been trying to study also, but he just couldn't keep his mind on Transfiguration.

For the past few minutes he'd been looking over at his friend, opening his mouth as though he were about to say something, before closing it again. Hermione had tried ignoring it at first, trying to give him his own time to say what he had to say, but it was becoming annoying to see him floundering out of the corner of her eye while she was trying to write.

She looked up at him as he went back to absently running his eyes over his essay. The next time that he looked up to see her looking directly at him he knew that he'd been caught. "Just tell me what's wrong Harry."

He ran his hand through his hair again, and was surprised that it hadn't gone greasy already. He'd been trying to tell her something for a while now, but he wasn't sure if he should. She was the only person he could really talk to, but although he really needed her advise, he wasn't sure if he should tell her.

"I really want to tell you something," he began, playing with his quill, "But I'm not sure if I really can."

"Why not?" she asked, beginning to get slightly annoyed, "Harry, if you want to tell me, just tell me, if you don't, don't."

"No, I do!" he protested, looking back up at her pleadingly. She opened her mouth to snap, but upon seeing his green eyes sad and lost she just couldn't bring herself too. Although she wasn't affected by the Veela charm (she still hadn't figured out why) she may as well have with the way that he was looking at her.

"Harry," she said, setting down her quill and cupping her chin in her hands, smiling reassuringly at her friend. "If it's important, I think you should tell me. I can't help you if I don't know what it is you need help with."

"I know," he whined, putting his head in his hands. "I really _really _want to tell you. I don't know how to handle it by myself and I don't know what'll happen if I don't do anything, but it's not really mine to give, if you know what I mean."

"Is it Draco?" she asked, frowning thoughtfully. Inside she really wanted to know what he needed help with, feeling it her duty as his friend. But she didn't want to push him, and she also wasn't sure what Draco would do if he found out that they were talking about him behind his back.

"Yes," he muttered, sighing and taking his head out of his hands before sitting back in his chair. "Alright," he whispered, "I'll tell you. You need to know; well I need you to know. I really need help."

She nodded and leant a little closer, as Harry looked left and right, as though expecting someone to be eavesdropping on their conversation. "A while back Draco went to get the Dark Mark."

"He WHAT?" she cried.

"Shhh!" the librarian hissed, stepping out from behind one of the rows of books with her finger to her lips.

'Sorry,' Hermione mouthed, blushing red and carefully sitting down again.

"He what!" she hissed, glaring at him.

"Hermione, calm down," he whispered, looking around at the rest of the students who were turning back to their studies. "I wasn't finished."

Hermione pursed her lips together and crossed her arms over her chest. Her hair was half out of its bun now and her face was still flushed, but Harry could tell that she was at least listening. "What I was _about _to say, was that it-didn't-work. He won't talk about it much, but all that's there is this burn scar from the spell."

"What?" she breathed, "but that's impossible! There's really strong dark magic used to make that tattoo, and Voldemort's really powerful too. There's no way that it wouldn't work!"

"I know," he said, frowning. "Draco doesn't want me to do anything about it, says he'll think of something or he'll get through it. But I'm really worried because I know if he goes back there and it doesn't work again, something bad'll happen to him! It only burnt him last time but next time it might be worse, or they might try something different. And- Merlin, Hermione I don't know what to do!"

He put his head on the table and let out a deep breath. He knew first hand what Voldemort was capable of, knew from experience how much pain he could cause someone. He closed his emerald eyes and tried not to imagine what would happen and let his silky hair fall over his face and onto the table.

Hermione frowned. Her brown eyes were full of understanding for what Harry must be going through, and the cogs in her head were turning as she tried to think of something to do. Her blush subsided on her round cheekbones and her hair tie finally gave out, causing her hair to fall out of its hold and onto her shoulders.

"Alright, here's what we're going to do." She said after a while. Harry brought his head up and his eyes shone with hope for what she had in mind. "I'm going to try and find out something, anything, about magical marking. Meanwhile, you go and get Draco to Dumbledore. He's the only person that'll really be able to help."

"I dunno," he said uneasily, "Draco isn't too fond of the headmaster, and he doesn't want me helping."

"Tough," she said in a no-nonsense tone as she began gathering up her books and putting them into her bag. Her high-necked sweater matched the brown leather shoulder bag and overall it suited her hair and her eyes. He suddenly felt sorry that she didn't have Ron anymore. "Just get him there and I'm sure the headmaster will know what to do about it. I'll start getting books."

"Hermione! Wait!" he hissed as she walked away.

"Bye Harry!" she called over her shoulder.

"Shh!"

…

Draco's room had never had so many people in it. He sat before the fire on one of his chairs and tried to ignore the fact that there were other people snooping around his belongings and invading his privacy. One hand was beneath his chin as he watched the fire with an expression of calm indifference. His sharp cheeks were slightly pink from all of the things Pansy kept finding, and his blonde hair hung, once more, before one of his eyes. He had become tired of moving it out of the way. One leg crossed over the other and his back straight, Draco was the very meaning of pureblood.

Goyle and Crabbe were once more before the fire, this time hunched over a game of muggle draughts. Upon asking why he had a muggle game in his room Draco had replied that it wasn't his and that they should 'mind their own damn business'. They were attempting to play, but it was clear that they were struggling to grasp the rules. Draco wondered why they had even bothered to come in the first place, if they were just going to do exactly the same thing as they had done before.

Pansy was slowly making her way around his room, the adjoining bathroom, and the common room. She had already squealed herself silly at the panelling that looked like water and the furnishings that 'she wished they had in the Slytherin dungeons'. Highly unlikely, Draco would sooner see Snape wearing _colours. _Draco was no longer sure if she actually liked what she saw, or if she was just worshipping whatever happened to be in his possession.

What was worrying him slightly more was that Blaise happened to have disappeared into his bathroom.

"Oh Draco, you're so _lucky!_" Pansy said as she rummaged through his drawers, yet again something he wished she wouldn't. He was regretting agreeing to let them come up.

"Yes," he replied distantly, still watching the bathroom from the side of his eye as he curled his other leg beneath him.

"You can't do that Greg!" Crabbe exclaimed as he tried to move Goyle's piece back to its original spot.

"Yes I can!" he protested.

"But you can't go backwards! Tell him Draco!"

"You can't move backwards Goyle," he murmured.

"See!" Crabbe said, looking smug. His muddy brown eyes looked like beetles against the rest of his face and his short hair had been cropped until it was almost flat on top. Goyle's hair was lighter than the other boy's, but that and a small height difference seemed to be the only thing that was different between the two. Crabbe's face split into a grin, making his cheeks go pink, and Goyle scowled as his piece was taken.

Blaise emerged from the bathroom looking rather triumphant, which was a worry as Draco's stormy eyes searched him for what he had been doing. Blaise's crooked grin made his white teeth contrast with his chocolate face as he waved something in his left hand.

"I never knew you used _witches' _products, Draco." He said loudly.

Draco felt his face heating up as his cheeks flushed pink against the golden glow from the fire. His light grey eyes went from the colour of duck eggs to the colour of the clouds outside as he narrowed them dangerously. Once more the annoying piece of hair fell down into his eyes, and he pushed himself up off his chair and began making his way over to where Blaise stood.

"What I use on my hair is _none _of your business Zambini! Besides, this is _unisex! _You hear me! _Unisex!" _he shouted as he snatched the shampoo out of the other boy's hands to put it back in the bathroom, before slamming the door shut behind him.

"Touchy," Blaise muttered, still grinning.

"I heard that!" Draco shouted back.

From the carpet by the fire Crabbe snorted, looking over to the bathroom door where Draco had just locked himself. In his distraction Goyle turned the board around on the floor and quickly switched the piles of taken counters until he was winning. Crabbe turned back to the board and his brow knitted in thought, and the game continued.

There was a knock on the door, a quiet and polite knock that was barely heard over the conversation in the room. Harry stood on the other side and tried to wait patiently. Normally, he might have just entered without knocking, but he needed brownie points if he was going to get Draco to come to the headmaster with him.

His dark hair was tucked behind his ears, shining in the dim light and flicking out at odd angles at the bottom. His eyes shone brightly against his porcelain face, framed with dark lashes, and he bit the inside of his cheek as he thought over what he was supposed to do. At least he had a back up plan.

The person that opened the door was definitely not Draco. Blaise raised an eyebrow upon seeing who it was, opening the door a little bit more and looking Harry up and down. Blaise wore expensive looking robes with patterns around the sleeves but looked a little off when he wasn't wearing any shoes. Harry felt suddenly very underdressed in comparison, wearing just a pair of jeans and a tee shirt that was slightly too small.

"Potter," Blaise said, bringing his gaze up to his face, "What are you doing h-" Harry got a jolt at nerves at what he was about to ask, and for a moment Blaise's eyes seemed to glaze over. "Did I ever tell you how ravishing you look in that shirt?" he said suddenly.

Harry's eyes widened in astonishment as Blaise began to pull the door closed behind him as he took a step closer. His eyes were shining and off focus and there was a strange, slightly off smile curling at his lips. Harry felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as he got closer and felt a strong urge to call back later. Blaise blinked twice and stopped moving. He shook his head, and when he opened his eyes again they were back to normal.

"So? What are you doing here Potter?" he asked, as though nothing had happened.

"I… uh… I need to talk to D-Malfoy." He managed, but still couldn't stop looking at Blaise as though he were about to pounce any second. It felt strange calling Draco by his last name once more, even though it had seemed so natural before everything happened.

Blaise leant on the doorframe and crossed his arms over his chest. His obsidian eyes seemed to have this uncanny ability to make Harry feel like he was a specimen in a jar being examined. With one look with those eyes he felt as though Blaise were staring six inches into his head and was picking about in his brain. He broke eye contact and looked over his shoulder just in time to see Pansy Parkinson push through the door.

"Oh, it's you." She said, sounding disappointed. "DRACO! Potter's at the door! Do you want us to tell him to go away?" she yelled over her shoulder.

Draco pushed open the bathroom door and strode across the room. Against the fire his black robes looked even darker in contrast and they flowed behind him, as he hadn't done them up. He sidestepped Crabbe and Goyle's game and pushed Pansy roughly out of the way before turning to Blaise.

"Did I say you could open the door?" he demanded.

Draco. Harry found his eyes were suddenly glued. He hadn't seen him all day so far, and seeing him again was like drinking water once you were in a desert. The exquisite curves of his face and the way his mouth moved when he spoke. His hair that looked like moonbeams and eyes that looked as hard as steel that he wanted to make look at him softly. That little piece of hair that fell before his eyes that he now had the urge to wrap around his fingers. He swallowed hard.

Blaise studied Draco for a long moment. He was now almost certain that there was something that he wasn't being told. Pansy was watching Draco with large eyes after being shoved out of the way, and Draco hadn't even done that when she'd been hanging off his arm. Why now, just because they'd opened the door to Potter?

"No…" he said carefully, "You didn't."

"Well next time don't, okay?" he snapped, glaring angrily. "This is not your room and you have no right to determine who can enter and who cannot." Blaise raised an eyebrow and nodded carefully, before stepping back into the room and shutting the door behind him, leaving Draco and Harry standing on the other side of the door.

"What do you want?" Draco muttered, peering back at the door where he was most certain that Pansy had her ear pressed up against.

"Other than you?" Harry whispered in return, smiling as though in a daze and moving his hand up to run it through his hair that he so wanted to touch.

Draco took his hand before it reached its destination and began to pull him to the other side of the room. He just hoped that no one would open the door and see him leading Harry Potter by the hand. The fingers were soft and warm in his as he tugged him into the other room and slammed the door behind him.

"Now's not a good time for this," he said, trying to glare and faltering as Harry stepped a little closer. He could feel the other's body heat as he approached and had to use all of his self-control to stay where he was as he felt his head becoming a little light.

"I just need to talk," Harry replied huskily, giving a lop-sided smile as Draco felt himself pushing up against the door.

"Well talk then," he snapped half-heartedly. "I've got four Slytherins sitting in the other room and they're most likely going to start guessing where I've gone, and Slytherins are much more resourceful and cunning than you're used to." His eyes kept on making their way back to Harry's lips. He shook his head and glared.

Harry sighed. It was taking a lot not to pin the blonde up against the wall and latch their lips together, to feel the warmth of another tongue in his mouth and to be able to map him out with his hands. But it wouldn't be fair. Plus, they needed to actually talk about it, not trick Draco into saying yes to anything. He quirked a smile just thinking about how excellent that would be, to get that sort of reaction.

Harry let his fingers creep up Draco's sleeve until they came to rest on the scar that lay just below his elbow. Draco's eyes fluttered down to where it was for a moment before he came to look upon Harry's face, wearing a curious expression. Harry looked down thoughtfully, before his emerald eyes came to look into Draco's stormy orbs.

"You know that I care for you… right?" he said.

"Yes…" Draco said cautiously, raising an eyebrow and looking at him suspiciously.

"And… and you know that I don't want you hurt?" he asked.

"What's this leading to?"

"Draco! You're ruining the moment," he said, smiling slightly and feeling his heart beat faster as he got a small smile in return.

"Oh- I'm sorry, do continue. I do believe you got to the bit where you wanted to kiss me senseless?" he said, smiling evilly.

"Funny, I don't remember ever mentioning that." He said, inching closer as though he had no control over it. His voice had gotten softer and deeper, huskier, and his hands worked their way around Draco's back and neck. The blonde was now firmly pressed up against the door.

Draco looked back at him seductively with his eyes half closed and relished in the feel as Harry came to rest up against him. "Well, you should have," he murmured.

"Mm," Harry replied as their lips connected and he felt Draco's tongue slide into his mouth.

…

"So… did he say yes?" Hermione asked over breakfast the next morning.

"I- I never got around to it…"


	15. Ron

It's Christmas everybody! After receiving the nicest most wonderful review I think I've ever had, in which I was told that this story was 'amazing' and 'beautiful'; and in which I was called 'talented', I decided to update!

Sorry for the delay my lovelies, and a special thanks to fr0d0lives, and my beta Elly. This chapter is dedicated to them.

…

Ron walked sullenly through the corridors, his bag slung over his shoulder as he dragged his large feet in a manner that would have caused his mother to scold him had she been there. He looked out of the windows absently as he passed, squinting against the sunset that was basking the hard grey walls in oranges and reds, like the plumage on the headmaster's phoenix.

He couldn't complain, not really. He still had friends, he had Seamus and Dean and, hell, even Neville liked him. He no longer hung out with the 'wrong sort of people'; he still had his health and his family, he had half a box of sugar quills under his bed and he had even started getting interest from the girls. He was at the peak of his existence, and he should be feeling young and happy and fulfilled. So why wasn't he?

Perhaps it was that empty bed that he and his dorm mates had taken to piling their dirty clothes on. Perhaps it was that now he had to get help with homework from Dean. Perhaps it was that burning guilt that tore at him every time Malfoy's steel grey eyes met his across the room; or perhaps it was that empty feeling in the pit of his stomach that was always there and never left, and the dull ache in his heart.

He'd managed to convince himself that it was indigestion, but not even the worst case of indigestion could last that long.

He sighed and kicked at a ball of dust that had rolled into the middle of the floor, his red hair falling into his face and swinging like a shaggy dog as he plodded on. It had all been for the best, he was sure of it. Being around Potter had jeopardised his entire family; there was always the danger of being killed looming over the other boy's head like a thundercloud, and it engulfed everyone around him. And it wasn't his fault that Hermione had preferred to risk her life being around him. He was sure of it. Rather, he _had _been sure of it.

He wasn't even sure if it was doing any good any way, seeing as he was mostly certain that Harry was still getting a regular supply from his brothers' shop and his mum had sent an extra sweater with an embroidered H, just in case. He was pretty sure that Ginny still spoke to him, too.

Now it was just a matter of pride.

Lion's pride.

Unbreakable.

Ron was almost certain that he would have to continue doing the right thing, perhaps just because he would most likely be told to shove off if he ever even thought of going back to what he had had before. The thought was slightly depressing.

The soft din of low voices slunk from around the turning, coiling around his head, but too dim to determine the words. For a moment he thought of just carrying on, knowing that whoever it was would either ignore him, or stop until he'd passed again. But the thought of catching a Slytherin (or maybe just a first year) in the act of something incriminating was just too good to give up. He needed to be cheered up anyway.

He picked up his feet and slunk nearer to the wall, slowing his pace as he approached. As he reached the corner he pressed his back up against the stonework and cocked his head so that he was sure he would catch what was being said.

"…report to…. Very important… vital that he's…."

"…Sure?… to believe… did he really?…"

"…Burn… angry…. In for a beating if he…"

Ron huffed silently in agitation, as he was unable to make sense of what he was hearing. But what he had heard had caught his attention, and he was extremely reluctant to leave without knowing what was going on. He looked over his shoulder, back down the corridor, to see if there was anyone there to see him eavesdropping. There was no one there. He turned back and debated risking a look around the corner, his heart beating slightly faster with the thrill. If he was seen he could always just pretend he had come out of the nearest classroom or something, but that would ruin his chances of finding out what was being said.

He risked it anyway. With one last fleeting glance over his shoulder, he let his fingers creep over the sharp turning; letting as little of his face show as possible, as he peeked, one eye showing beneath a mop of red hair, around the bend.

At first he couldn't see anything against the bright glow of the setting sun, that was leaking through the windows and flooding the length of corridor, but his eyes adjusted. He squinted as he tried to focus on the three figures he could see standing near one of the windows, huddled together in a group. They were very obviously plotting something.

He could tell that they were in the upper school years. One of them was thick and broad shouldered, while the other two were smaller, one lean while the other was skinny, with very pointy angles showing through his robes. They were all so close together that they probably wouldn't be able to see him if he moved cautiously enough.

Ron spied the statue of a founder by a window a few feet away from him, in the other corridor. He knew that if he got by it he would be able to hear more of whatever they were talking about; plus he'd have the element of surprise if he needed to protect himself (in the case they were Slytherin, which was more than likely as Slytherins always had the knack for looking suspicious).

Ron took a deep breath and stuck out his chest, and plunged his hand into the pocket of his robes for his wand before he quickly darted out of his hiding place and into the other. He held his breath for a few moments as he tried to be silent.

"What was that?"

"I dunno, probably Peeves. Stop being paranoid."

Ron let his breath out and his shoulders sagged; and he spared himself a triumphant look for his efforts. From where he was now, he could not only hear them, but he could see them too. As he peered through the gap between the statue's elbow, he could clearly make out the three figures in the glow of orange sunlight.

One of them was in the year below, one whom he didn't know the name of. He was the sort of boy that always seemed to be peering at you in a ratty way, and he looked as thin as a leaf. The other two were Crabbe and Zabini, and just seeing them confirmed his suspicions of foul play. He grinned to himself and tested the grip on his wand.

"When's it again?" Crabbe murmured.

"Shut up Crabbe, he's just told you," Zabini snapped back.

Ron cursed. He'd already missed vital information.

"Sorry."

"What sort of trouble do you think Draco'll be in?" sniffed the smaller boy.

"Provided the Mark works this time, I don't think there should be too much trouble, although I'm sure the Dark Lord will want to figure out why it didn't work the first time," Blaise drawled.

"And if it doesn't?"

"Well then I suppose he'll keep trying until it either works, or Draco dies. Really brings light to the expression 'die trying'."

"That's not very nice," the boy muttered.

"Lord Voldermort is hardly nice at the best of times, idiot."

From his hiding place Ron watched the smaller boy shrug, his long shadow moving sluggishly along with him as though the rich light was weighing it down. He was sorely tempted just to jump out and stun them before they could react, but something told him that it would most probably be best to tell someone about it in case his plan backfired. His head buzzed with adrenalin, his ideas fighting for dominance of his thoughts as he tried to quickly think of what he should do.

So Malfoy _was _up to no good. It sort of made him feel better. Ever since the fiasco at the Room of Requirement he'd felt lower than low because he'd thought that Malfoy was better than him; at least now he knew that he wasn't. It didn't really make sense though, that Malfoy would protect Potter one moment and then become a Death Eater the next. But then again, nothing about the arrogant blonde had really made much sense, and frankly Ron didn't really care. He smirked to himself as the party departed, and as they disappeared around the corner, he chanced coming out of his hiding place.

For a moment he stood in the evening light, a silhouette against the warm glow, before he began walking in the other direction. The next course of action was simple really; he should just go and tell the headmaster. Or better yet, owl his dad at the ministry. But there was something gnawing away at his innards again. That familiar feeling of guilt. Shouldn't he tell them? Shouldn't he at least warn his ex-best friend that there was a traitor in their midst? Or should he just leave it?

Could he really do that to them after all he'd done?

Should the saviour really be saved?

…

Draco and Harry sat by the fire in their common room. The platinum blonde sat with a notepad in front of him and a quill dripping ink onto the red carpet. The brunette lounged behind him on a chair with the expression of only half listening, as he watched the other boy chewing the end of the feather. The setting light of the sun was blocked out by a pair of thick curtains, and the only light in the room was the soft crackling glow of the small fire in the marble fireplace, the flames seeming to dance across the walls.

Draco slid the quill out of his lips and Harry absently sighed.

"So that's all?" he asked at last, "it doesn't seem like much."

"Yup," Harry replied, "That's all so far, although the headmaster said that there might be more."

"There'd better be," Draco sniffed. " It's not that I doubt your magical abilities or anything, but I don't think that you'll be able to defeat anyone by charming them to death, turning yourself invisible or being able to see in the dark. Well, I suppose you could ambush him on a very dark night…" Draco's expression became distant for a moment. "But that's not going to happen," he said at last.

"Mm…" Harry murmured in reply.

"You're not even listening to me, are you?" Draco drawled, not really seeming too bothered himself, as he rolled onto his back to glance at the other boy from where he lay on the floor. The firelight bounced off his hair and skin, giving him an orange glow, and his slate grey eyes looked languidly out from beneath blonde lashes.

"It's fine," Harry muttered.

Draco raised an eyebrow. It was very clear that his words weren't registering at all. He sighed and turned back to the notepad, where his own slanted writing lay neatly across the parchment, his words staring at him from the page. He tried to ignore the other boy's eyes as he re-read what he had written.

Dark Veela

_Powers: Good eyesight, charm, some sort of invisibility_

_Physical characteristics: feature enhancement, muscle development, height increase, hair length, cured defects (eyesight)…_

_Generally sexy_

_Emotional characterises: Dominance (hah!), change of perspective, devotion, otherwise none…_

He sighed quietly through slightly parted lips. He doubted that Dumbledore would be too impressed with his notes. Especially his own added opinions. His cheeks prickled with heat for a second and he cleared his throat; it was strange to think that he hadn't blushed before the summer, as he seemed to be doing it a lot more recently.

"Draco?"

Draco jumped as Harry spoke, as the brunette now appeared to be lying right beside him and he hadn't noticed. He lay a hand on his heart and glared as he let out his breath, and Harry propped himself on his elbow as he smiled coyly.

"Scared?" he asked.

"Terrified," Draco drawled, lying back down.

"Well you should be," Harry replied, smiling, as he shuffled closer.

"Go away, faggot, I'm working," Draco muttered half-heartedly and began writing again, before the parchment was ripped from his hands.

"Yes I can see that," Harry laughed as he began to read, "Squiggle, squiggle, line, stick person holding a bro- hey! That's not a broom!"

"Oy! Give that here, Potter!" Draco snapped, leaping and trying to snatch it back before Harry's arm recoiled and brought it just out of his grasp. He tried again and missed, and as he reached forward the other boy grabbed his arm and pulled him over, until Draco was lying on top of him. The blonde tried to keep his face impassive as he felt the heat of the other body creeping through his clothes, and running up and down his spine like electricity.

"How about no," he whispered, "what 'choo gonna do about it?"

Draco ignored the implications just to be difficult.

"Just give that back here and no one gets hurt."

"Oh really?" Harry quipped, smirking, before beginning to attack the other's neck. Draco fought back half-heartedly for a moment before giving up with the realisation that it was probably already leaving a mark, and let himself relax as his head cocked to the side and he stopped muttering weak protests. But suddenly the attention to his jugular stopped.

"What?" Draco moaned, pouting slightly as he raised his head and looked down at the other boy. "You've never stopped before."

Harry sighed. He didn't want to stop. Anything but. He gazed longingly at the white porcelain skin covering the others neck, rising to his sharp jawbone and handsome features. He stared into the heavy lidded stormy eyes and wanted nothing more than to continue, but he had promised himself that he would do this. Actually, he had promised Hermione, and if he didn't follow it through he would most likely regret it.

Draco's eyebrows knitted into a look of mild concern as he searched the other's features. "Something wrong?" he ventured.

"No- nothing wrong," he sighed, "it's just…Draco, you know I care for you right?" he asked, gazing up into the others face, mapping out the lines and curves longingly with his eyes.

"Yes. I also know that you've said that before. What do you want?" Draco snapped, but it lacked conviction, as he still made no move to remove himself from on top of the other boy.

"Draco…" he began, but knew that what he was about to ask would make him extremely unpopular. He wished they could just run away together; perhaps drag Hermione along as long as she could occupy herself half of the time, and not have to worry about any of the things that they did have to worry about. But he knew that beneath the silken material of Draco's expensive clothes lay the silver scar of the dark mark spell, and with it the certainty that it would be cast again.

"Draco…" he repeated. He swallowed slowly and tried to ignore the feel of the other person on top of him, and ignore the fact that his love was in danger and he was doing nothing about it. "Draco," he said at last, more certain this time, " Draco."

"Yes?" Draco asked, smirking. "You called?"

"Dracowillyougotoseetheheadmasterwithme?" he breathed.

"Pardon?" Draco said, but as he relieved some of his weight Harry could see his eyes harden, and he knew that he had heard perfectly.

"Please Draco! It's for the best! He can help you!" he tried as Draco rolled off and into a standing position. Harry scrambled up after him and tried to take his hand, but he was batted away too soon, and his emerald eyes pleaded with the other, but to no avail.

"I'm not listening to this drabble," Draco hissed, "Dumbledore's done nothing for me so far, and he'll do nothing for me in the future."

"Draco!" Harry called, "Please! Just give him a chance. He can help you, I swear!"

"No!" Draco snapped. Harry tried to make a grab for him again, but once more he was batted aside, and Draco disappeared into his room before he could reach him, and slammed the door behind him. Although Harry knew that he could get in, he knew that he shouldn't. But the feeling of being left outside while the man he loved was in pain, and needed to he helped but refused all of his pleas, hurt him deeply. The feeling of his innards being chewed and digested, gnawed on by the hounds of rejection, was hard to ignore. Perhaps he'd have to try something different next time.

At least, he hoped that there would be a next time.

With one last longing look at the other's door, he sighed and flopped back into the chair he had previously occupied. It would be a long night.

….

Merry Christmas to all, and to all and a goodnight!

Blue XxX


	16. Cry for help!

I'm pretty sure I'm not allowed to actually do this, but please don't tell anyone.

**shifty eyes**

First of all I'd like to say a HUGE thank you to everyone who bothered to stay with this, even though I deleted two chapters, screwed you around, and haven't updated since Christmas last year. I'd especially like to thank Leilia, my fan from France through the world, for her touching review for the last chapter, and for reading even while she was in China.

**don't hurt me**

So to the point now… well you know I told you all earlier that I hated this story? Well now I sort of… really don't. But now that I don't I really want to continue (if I still can- you never know, I might have lost my spark!) but I've completely forgotten all of the plans I had for it!

**Gasp**

So with help from my wonderful beta Elly, I'm going to try and come up with an acceptable plot for continuation, but I still need more help!

I would REALLY, and I mean REALLY REALLY, appreciate it if any of you could help me. I know that I left a lot of plot threads untied and they need to be sorted, so can you please review to this telling me what you thought was going to happen.

The more of you who review to tell me what they thought was going to happen, the better I'll be able to piece together what I've done so far.

Once more, I'm SO sorry, and it really broke my heart to read all of your reviews of regret for me putting my story on HIATUS!

I hope you forgive me!

-Blue XxX


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